Fifty percent of Zero
by bed of nails and sandpaper
Summary: Sasuke, a man who was born for the greater good and will most likey die for the greater good has both life and death in his hands. But Naruto stumbled upon this man's dark destiny. Surely a simple man is useless to the great Uchiha heir. NaruSasu
1. Chapter 1

**Fifty percent of Zero**

There's a fifty percent chance of either winning, or losing against Anubis. There is no such thing as a draw in the game of life. Just like how it's almost impossible for a flipped coin to land halfway between heads and tails.

However, once upon a time, I flipped a coin seven times, and it landed on heads seven times in a row. As lucky as the number seven is I wasn't thinking about luck when I flipped that coin for an eighth time. There's no such thing as luck.

The coin landed head side up in my open palm.

No matter what the outcome of the last throw was, each flip is independent. There will always be only two sides to a coin, and there will always be a fifty percent chance of it landing on either side. Even if it lands on heads one hundred times, there's still the same chance that it will land on heads once more, or even one hundred times more.

Life is just as insignificant as the coin that landed on heads eight times in a row. Luck has nothing to do with it. Even if I cheat death one hundred times over, there is still the same fifty percent chance that I would be able to do it again, and again, and again.

I was on a winning streak by the time I was twenty one. I was landing on heads every time. Of course, there had been a few close calls when I really thought that I was staring into the eyes of the Egyptian death God. And then there were times when I saw the mighty Jackal win the game of life against someone else: my mother, my father, my friends, my enemies and even those that were strangers to me.

But I was still living and awaiting the day that my coin would land on tails and I would follow on to my eternal punishment in the pits of whatever hell existed. At least there I would be reunited with my loved ones, who belonged to be there just as much as me.

"Sasuke, give me the coin."

My brother Itachi held out his gloved hand to me all the while keeping his eyes on the road. I smiled knowingly and slid it into his hand.

"Must you be so controlling? What if I had intended to use that money to buy something important?"

He pocketed it and put both hands back onto the leather wheel. Had it been day he would be comfortable enough to drive with only one hand. But the night seemed to scare my brother, as though he were a moth who would only endure darkness so to find a source of light.

"Then I would buy it for you. We both know what perverse musings develop when you are in possession of a coin."

I snickered and rested my head against the cool window beside me. The chill of the glass began to warm underneath my abnormally heated forehead. I had yet to fully recover from my fever.

"Brother, you think too cynically of my mind."

I murmured and rested my palm against the window as well, in hopes that the small contact would help to cool me down.

"Rest, Sasuke. We shall be there soon."

Sleep sounded like a wonderful idea. The moving scenery beyond the car window was already starting to blur as my eye rolled shut. It had been a very long day. Our business had been under a great threat that we couldn't ignore. It would only take one disloyal member for generations of solid dedication and sacrifices to all fall to ruins within the hands of our enemies, or even the government.

We weren't Yakuza. Nothing of the sort. Petty criminals involved in organized crime are dirt beneath the Uchiha name. We are dedicated to the greater good. Sometimes we have to break a few laws in order to achieve such a goal, but in the end our family has done nothing but flourish and become even more powerful. And all of this belonged to Itachi and I; the latest generation of Uchihas. Our hands are the safest hands to guide our business to our success.

--

Cool leather stroked my cheek and woke me from my empty sleep. I was unusually fatigued when I attempted to stand. My strong legs were struggling to hold me upright and I had to rest against the door for a moment. Itachi fussed over me for a moment, patting my head and pulling my jacket to cover any bare flesh that he could. But I pushed him away, feeling a little pathetic in my weakened state.

Moments later seven more cars parked around us and we were joined by the rest of our men. Thirty black jackets and pristine shirts stood around my brother and I awaiting eagerly and loyally for their instructions.

"Sir, does Sasuke-sama need to be escorted home?"

Kisame, one of our oldest and most trustworthy men bowed to my brother and I. But we both curtly waved him away.

"Thank you, Kisame. But Sasuke is needed here. Our home is the worst place for him to be right now."

He nodded respectfully and walked away to join the rest of the men who were preparing for our mission.

"Squads three and four, circle around the back. Make sure that no one leaves."

Itachi ordered, one hand clutching my shoulder and the other pointing the men to their assigned destinations. After resounding their confirmation of their orders nearly half of our group stalked into the night to circle the large building in front of us.

What looked on the outside to be a large warehouse was in fact the headquarters of a business similar to ours. We had been inside many times and even visited friends. But this time, we would not be welcomed upon our arrival. Each of our men carried two guns that would most probably be emptied of all ammo by the end of our visit.

I gathered enough strength to stand straight and nodded to my brother that I had recovered enough to continue forth. Composing himself he signalled to the remainder of our men to follow him and began leading us all to the entrance. Not taking his sight from his goal he listed off instructions to his subordinates Kisame and Deidara; two men that were the mortal opposites of each other. Kisame, with his thick build and dark, sickly skin tone stood to Itachi's right, and Deidara with his feminine features and bright blond hair stood to his left. I trailed behind, shakily loading my first gun. After the two men left to lead their squads Itachi slowed down to stand at my side and took hold of my hand that was clutching the last bullet that I had yet to put in the barrel.

"Sasuke, stay behind me this time, okay?"

He whispered and looked directly into my eyes. I felt so privileged that my eyes were the only ones that he would look into with such love.

"Brother, it's too risky to leave yourself so open."

"You still have a fever. I'm worried that a sluggish performance will end up getting you shot."

"I'm not sluggish, even with this fever. I'm just as alert as I always am."

The glare that I sent him was half hearted. I would never use cruel eyes upon my brother.

"You may think so, but I'm just taking precautions. As well as being worried about you I am also worried that this mission will not be a success."

I sighed and gave into his demands, deciding that I would only obey his orders until I'd fired my first round. I would gladly disobey him in order to keep him from harm. Not that he even needed my protection with the skill that he possessed.

"Alright. I shall cover your back. But please be careful."

He nodded and kissed my burning forehead before moving back in front of me once we'd reached the door.

Six men stood at the entrance to greet us, each armed with a simple handgun in their hands. They'd been expecting us. All of us kept a grip on our own guns, ready to react when fired at. But not a single gun was raised at us and they watched silently as we continued down the dim corridor with our men. It seemed that not only had they been expecting us, but they had even formatted a plan.

Every corridor that we walked down felt different to me now that I knew that it was owned by an enemy; an enemy that we had once considered to be a grandfather to us. Even the rooms that we had once played in as children felt as though they were a new threat. What had once been a home was now an enemy base.

We reached our destination where two large men stood guarding the door. But, just as they always had, they parted to let us enter. Only my brother and I went in to the office, the rest of the men stood in the corridor, waiting for the first bullet to fly.

The room was dimly lit, and smelt familiarly of cigar smoke and peppermint. The man seated behind the desk even gave us the same grin as he had done many years ago. His thin lips parted to show the jagged, tobacco stained teeth of our old friend.

"Orochimaru."

My brother greeted him with a stoic voice, cleverly hiding his newly smouldering hatred of the man. I chose not to say anything, knowing that the first thing that would come out of my mouth would only be a string of curses.

"Ah, the Uchiha brothers. My friends. What can I help you with?"

He laughed and fingered the lifeless black locks that hung over his shoulders. His hair had thinned dramatically as he neared the well ripened age of sixty. Yet his skin remained unblemished with not even a single wrinkle. His smug expression only succeeded in fuelling my desire to slit his throat, and my fever was weakening my restraint.

"We caught your spy, you Snake."

I hissed, but didn't disobey Itachi in leaving myself open. I stayed behind him and spoke from over his shoulder where I had a perfect view of the bastard's reaction. He smiled slyly. He most definitely had something planned for us.

"How cruel, Sasuke. Such beautiful lips don't suit to utter such harsh words."

He laughed. But Itachi succeeded in silencing when he placed the bloodstained glasses of Orochimaru's spy on the desk in front of him. A pale bony hand picked up the glasses and scratched some of the man's blood off of the lens. No pity or was shown from him and he dropped them into the bin beside him.

"So, how did you discover that it was _me_ who sent Kabuto?"

He lent back in his chair took out a cigar and matches from his desk drawer. Every movement that he made had me gripping my gun that little bit tighter, preparing to whip it out and drill a bullet into his skull.

"We found your emblem sewn on the inner sleeve of one of his jackets. He seemed to cherish his loyalty to you a great deal."

The man nodded, basking in his own vanity. With a laugh he exhaled the smoke from his first drag on the cigar.

"So, why did you send him to us? As a friend of the family there is nothing that we have kept from you. Besides, we have nothing that could be of value to you."

Itachi questioned and kept firm eye contact with Orochimaru, even through the cloud of smoke that was covering his vision. My senses were overwhelmed. The overbearing scent of burning tobacco, my raging fever burning my skin, the hazy sight of the bastards grinning face through curtains of smoke, and the husky chuckle that shook the floors of the small office.

"On the contrary, you have something that is of immeasurable value to me."

Orochimaru stubbed out his cigar on the marble ashtray. He hadn't even smoked half of it. We both took this as sign that he was preparing to take action and I gripped the handle of my gun, even preparing my finger on the trigger.

"Oh how it has been kept a secret from us all for so long, and how I've craved it since I first learnt of its existence."

Itachi's expression darkened. We both knew exactly what Orochimaru was talking about. Our family secret. And if he got his hands on it then our demise was not only predictable, it was inevitable.

Orochimaru stood up from his chair slowly, threateningly. Although we had yet to see a weapon we both knew that we were seconds away from a standoff. Those beady eyes foretold murder.

"And now, thanks to Kabuto, I now know exactly how to get it."

He cackled and slammed his fist on the desk. His actions startled me and my brother to swiftly aim our ready guns at him. There was a silence as thick as the cigar smoke circulating the room. Orochimaru didn't seem at all threatened by the two guns that were pointed at him. Instead he displayed his hands in plain sight as if to say 'I am unarmed and won't do anything'. I even began to lower my gun.

But no sooner than I'd taken my hand off of the trigger, the balcony window behind the desk blew open in a shower of glass and bullets. The curtain had well covered the two men with machine guns who had been hiding on the balcony. Not even our own men had been able to see them when they had first surveyed the area. Orochimaru's fist slamming on the table had been the signal for the men to prepare to fire.

Itachi had been correct to presume that I would be sluggish, as much as I hated to admit it. Instead of reacting quickly and avoiding fire I fumbled with my gun for a moment and was hit with a wave of nausea before I could lower myself to the floor for cover. My brother had to pull me down with him when he noticed my unusual movements. A bullet grazed the side of my shoulder and made a long slit in my jacket, my shirt and my skin. My coin had been tossed and I'd once again landed on heads. Death would have to wait.

Keeping a grip on the back of my head Itachi kept me close to him as we hid for cover behind the desk. With the flying debris and poor light of the office the two gunmen had yet to realise that we had avoided their attacks and continued to fire blindly at the wall. We could also hear gunfire coming from the other room as our men reacted to the noise.

We were both short for time as we tried to think of a way to quickly reach the door without being hit. Sooner or later the gunmen would realise that none of their bullets were hitting flesh and they would seek us out. Though our own guns were trusty, they were too slow to stand against twenty five bullets being fired per second. We wouldn't even have enough time to aim before our hands were blown off.

"Itachi-sama! Sasuke-sama!"

I heard the voice of Kisami call from the other side of the door over the roar of two scenes of gunfire. My vision was already blurring and I was fighting consciousness at the worst possible time. Itachi held me to his chest and covered my ears before letting out a roar.

"Kisami! Now!"

The door was blown off its hinges with only a swift kick from the large man. With his thick 'P90' Kisame bravely and precisely shot down the gunmen and successfully destroyed whatever remains of the office that had been left intact. Itachi still had a firm hold on me and still hadn't moved from his position when the room quietened.

"Brother, we need to get out of here."

He nodded into my hair and loosened his grip.

"Your fever has worsened."

He mumbled and helped me stand. I was shaking and finding it hard to breathe. Every inhale was tainted with warm cigar smoke and the collar of my shirt was choking me.

The room was empty now except for the three of us that were alive and the two men that were dead. Orochimaru had escaped from the balcony as soon as his men had started to shoot. He was most likely on his way to the mansion now that he had information on what he desired from us. We had to get there before he could steal it. We had only left a few men guarding it.

"Itachi-sama we must hurry. We are outnumbered."

Kisame warned while reloading his gun. Itachi was fussing over me and helping me to take off my jacket and tie. Any unnecessary accessories would only hinder our swift getaway. After fixing my gun pouch he took my face in his hands.

"Sasuke, head to the back of the building using the east staircase. I'll be on your tail, but no matter what don't stop running."

My tie and jacket lay discarded on the ground and my shirt had been opened to reveal the family heirloom that hung around my neck; a treasured necklace that had been entrusted to me by my mother. It stood out harshly against my pale skin.

I nodded and rolled up my sleeves, preparing for the longest and most painful sprint race of my lifetime.

"On my signal."

Itachi stood against the doorframe observing the chaos beyond. Just the sound of it was enough to know that we weren't just outnumbered. We were practically surrounded.

"Go, Sasuke!"

Itachi pushed my shoulder and I darted out of the office. I was so worried that he wasn't behind me, but I obeyed his orders and didn't dare to look back.

"It's the Uchihas!"

I heard the foreign cry of one of Orochimaru's men and suddenly fifty guns or more were firing in my direction. I could hear the air being sliced around me by each bullet. This was definitely a time that I was forbidden to be sluggish. If I let my fever interfere again then I would most certainly be dead.

So even when my chest hurt, my eyes blurred and my limbs trembled I still kept running to my highest ability.

"All men to the garden exit! Ready your weapons!"

My brother screamed into his microphone to the other squads outside. His voice reassured me that I wasn't alone and gave me the confidence to push myself that little bit more. Even when a fiery white pain pierced my shoulder and I could hear Itachi and Kisami scream my name, I didn't even stumble. I mechanically dragged my heavy limbs to the long staircase and stumbled down each step to the exit.

Once reaching the door at the bottom I felt a sense of relief and safety even while bullets were ricocheting off of every wall in the narrow passageway. My sweaty hands slipped over the brass knob, but once I had a firm grip I twisted it firmly in every possible direction.

"Shit! It's locked!"

I cursed and faced my brother who was catching up behind me, and behind him were Kisami and Deidara who had left the battle to help get us to safety. Not even bothering with the door Itachi took hold of me and held me to his chest.

"Kisami."

"Yes sir."

Kisami followed Itachi's unspoken order and stood prepared to ram down the door while Deidara continued to hold off the men that had followed us down the stairwell.

"Itachi-sama, please take cover."

Itachi moved me so that my back was against the wall and used his body as a shield, cradling my head in his hand so that I wouldn't hit it. Even though he held me painfully, crushing him against him and choking me with my necklace I still melted into his hold. I wrapped my arms around his chest as my adrenalin rush wore off and I felt the after effects take what they would of my weakened body. Everything hurt. I was surrounded by complete chaos and noise. The echoing gunfire between Deidara and ten other men, Kisami's metal toed boots slamming against the door in attempts to burst it open, my brother's ragged breathing in my ear and the rushing blood in my head that carried pain with every pulsate.

I was practically unconscious when Itachi dragged me by my shoulder to the car. Not even the chill of the night was able to cool my skin. I could barely hear my brother's screams at our men to retreat to the mansion. I was pushed into the back of our car and Itachi swiftly dove in after me, closing the door quickly. Kisami and Deidara were in the front seats, making sure to stop any mean from following us before driving off to the mansion.

"Shit. Sasuke stay awake for me."

Itachi called for me and unbuttoned my shirt. The wound I had received while running must have been more severe than I thought. The left side of my shirt had been completely stained red from the bullet hole in my shoulder, which had luckily gone right through me.

Itachi reached under the seat for our first aid kit and wrapped layer after layer round my shoulder all the while coaxing me to keep my eyes open. Even with the lurching of the car I found sleep to be coming easily to me. But I couldn't sleep. Our mission had suddenly become more complicated than we'd expected it to be.

At first when we'd found Kabuto snooping around the mansion we had assumed that he was looking for the family vault or something. If Orochimaru had wanted money then all we'd have to do is put in a more secure place or perhaps put it into an account. But his goal was far more dangerous for us.

He wanted the Sharingan.

It was a secret weapon developed by our family generations ago. Something far too dangerous to be used by any man. Father and son have guarded it since the beginning without even knowing what it was. Not even Itachi and I knew what it did, or even what it looked like, but despite that we had been guarding it for our whole lives and it was our duty to keep it with us until we reach our deathbeds. Then our sons would take the responsibility to guard it until their sons own the family business.

With that task on my mind I battled against my fever and helped Itachi to redress me into a new shirt.

"Sir, we are coming up to the mansion very soon. Please prepare yourselves."

I didn't even need to reload my gun. I hadn't fired a single bullet. It had all happened far too quickly. But looking at our home I saw that I would definitely need a full barrel in order to survive. Windows had been smashed and silhouettes could be seen stalking across the widows on the second floor as well as a few keeping guard outside. We would have to find a new place to settle once we had retrieved the Sharingan.

We parked around the corner of the mansion, keeping to the shadows, and only four more cars pulled up behind us. We had lost many men. Itachi swore under his breath and tapped his gun, formulating a way to get us safely inside.

"Sasuke, do you remember the Hazelnut tree that grows outside of father's bedroom?"

I nodded slowly, dreading what I knew Itachi would ask me to do.

"Use it to climb into the bedroom and meet me there. Kisami, Deidara and I will charge the back door to clear a path. We will meet you on the first floor."

"Understood."

I muttered. I would have preferred to be shot at the entrance than to have to enter my father's old bedroom. Such a room harboured painful memories that left me weeping for many nights. It would be the first time since my father's death that I entered his room. But for the greater good, I would endure it all.

"You will have to leave now in order to enter unnoticed. As soon as we are seen they will be on high alert."

I nodded and placed my gun back in its holster. Itachi embraced me tightly and kissed my face.

"Be safe, brother. Good luck."

I chuckled weakly into his shoulder.

"Dear brother, luck doesn't exist."

And with that as my goodbye I opened the car door. The tree grew on the west side of the house, luckily very close to where we had parked. While jogging I screwed the silencer onto my gun with the difficulty of my shaking hands. I could barely see it in my hand and the slight blood loss had numbed my arm. But with the adaptor screwed on tightly I put it back into its place on my strap.

The tree stood proud and healthy on the edge of the garden, caged in between the property wall and the edge of the house. My father's window stood just a foot away from its longest branch. The last time I had climbed the tree I had been half my age and half my weight, so I could only hope that the branches wouldn't snap beneath me.

I began my ascent, my body barely being supported by my quivering limbs. Every so often a branch would creak and moan as it tried to support me and I had to halt in hopes that I wasn't heard or that the branch wouldn't break. But I remained safe and continued on until I had eventually crawled as far as I could onto the branch outside the window. But there was a problem. There was someone in there.

I hadn't expected someone to search my father's bedroom. So when I first saw the man rummaging through the doors I had almost lost my balance on the branch.

I had to act fast.

Luckily the window was open so I wouldn't have to break the glass and gamble the possibility of being detected, but even then there was no way that I could jump to the window without being noticed by the occupant of the room. I had to get into the room and get rid of him in one swift move.

I waited him for him to reach a position that was easily reachable. He centred my line of sight at the opposite end of the room where he rummaged through the chest of drawers. It was perfect. So I made my move.

I took a silent dive in through the window and rolled across the carpeted floor until I was directly behind him. Before he was able to turn around or even call for help I reached around him to cover his mouth and fired one shot into the back of his head. The only sound that was made was the muted 'ping' of the bullet passing through the silencer. I was eternally grateful for the goggles he wore that stopped the bullet before it hit the wall opposite.

I lowered the body to the floor and wiped any blood from my gloves onto his jacket. Waiting for my brother to collect me I sat on the floor by the closed door. I didn't dare sit on the bed or touched any of my father's belongings. I feared that if I did my father's angry spirit would be released and claim revenge upon me. The fresh body only a few feet away from me even reminded me of my father's death. How his corpse had looked with a clean hole straight through his eye socket and to the other side of his head. I shuddered at the memory and felt an urge to vomit that hadn't been caused by my fever.

Tucking my knees to my chest and stroking the heirloom around my neck I prayed to the Gods and my ancestors that Itachi would safely reach me and that I wouldn't be discovered. I was so tired and ill. All I wanted was for my brother to be safely in my arms and to sleep for months. But at the first sound of gunfire I realised that Itachi had begun to clear his way to me. Soon I would have to fight because my life depended on it.

My coin had been tossed and would not allow it to land on tails.

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A new story, oh dear. My first proper Naruto fic and I just _had_ to make it one of those really long and dramatic ones that involve a lot of hard work.

This chapter is an introduction. It is a Naru/Sasu so beware. There will also be much more violence and much much longer chapters. I intend to write 10,000 words per chapter or something. That way I won't have to write 20 chapters or something.

Please review and tell me if you like the first action scene that I've ever written =]

the more reviews I get the more I will inspired to update faster


	2. Chapter 2

The room was spinning, even while I kept my eyes shut tightly. The blood of the man that lay a foot away from me was slowly spreading and soaking through the beige carpet. Unlucky for me, our house stood on a slope, meaning that the dark patch was following gravity and spreading out vines of red closer to where I sat as each second past, reaching for vengeance on behalf of its former host.

The sounds of spraying bullets, tumbling bodies and battle cries had died down, and I feared for my brother's safety. He had yet to collect me and I was in no shape to face the rest of those men alone. I didn't have a spare set of bullets with me, and I only had six left in the barrel. If the mission came down to depend on me, my failure was a certainty.

Feeling a bit too overwhelmed, being in my father's old room, I'd forgotten to listen for any approaching footsteps. But when I suddenly took notice of the thudding feet getting louder as they got closer to the door I quickly rolled away, ignoring the protest of my ruined shoulder. I readied my gun to knock back the person who would open it, still staying as clear as possible from the running blood that travelled across the carpet. I couldn't guarantee that my aim would be too accurate with my violently shaking hands. I could practically hear the bullets rattling in their chambers.

The increasing sound of boots on wood became louder still and I tightened the grip on my gun, recognising that the person approaching trod clumsily and harsh, whereas my brother had always been swift and light on his feet. I'd never been a man of cowardice or concern, but at that point in time I was definitely debating what should be written on my tombstone. Stroking the charm around my neck I felt sanctity in knowing that while I was alive I could still fight.

I hadn't worried about locking the door. If I did then they would know that I was inside and would break the door down, ruining what upper hand that I had with the element of surprise.

When the engraved, brass knob turned clumsily I readied my finger on the trigger. The door swung on its hinges with a brutal force powerful enough to embed the handle of the door into the wall. From the haze of my tired vision all I could see in the doorway was the form of a large dark bulk. The shape was so indiscernible that I opted to not shoot until I was sure that it was an enemy. This found to be definitely a judicious decision when I discovered who it was.

"Sasuke-sama! You're brother has proceeded to the upper floor. We must hurry!"

In my tremendous relief to see that it was only Kisame I experienced all of my muscles relaxing. I felt the gun fall from my grip and allowed myself to wilt forward to rest on my hands. A shudder rattled my bones in their sockets, and once more I sensed an ill sleep begin to claim me. But there was no time to close my eyes. Kisame pulled me up by my wrist in a gentle but strong manner.

"Sasuke-sama, we must leave this instant. Time is of the greatest importance if we want to get you both out of here safely."

Thinking of the safety of my brother as well as my own I was spurred on to reactivate the muscles in my legs and stand up. Of course I had to lean a significant portion of my weight against Kisame, but at least I was upright. Kisame picked up my gun and placed it into my hand, making sure that my hold on it was firm and ready. He cocked his gun and inspected the hallway before escorting me out once he was sure it was safe. Following my brother's orders he kept an arm around my shoulder to make sure that I was well guarded from every angle.

I could clearly hear the clatter and crash of Orochimaru's henchmen tearing our treasured home to pieces in search for valuables and their intended valuable- the Sharingan. Possessions have always been considered as trivial things in my eyes, but at that moment, the thought of family heirlooms and childhood memories being smashed and broken made my heart ache sorely. I tried to block out the noises of their laughter and shattering china and just moved with Kisame's strong limb pushing me forward at a steady pace.

When we came to the stairs leading to the top floor signs of a fight became more evident. Several of Orochimaru's men lay strewn across the steps with bullet wounds stamped into their flesh and blood ran down towards us like a trickling waterfall of crimson. It was a familiar sight to me and I didn't flinch. Instead I stepped on the back of one of the men in order to proceed up the stairs without getting blood on my shoes. I didn't want to leave any footprints that would give away my position if I needed to hide. I clearly understand that this is a cruel way of thinking, not taking pity or respecting the dead men beneath my shoe, but I needed to survive. They had already failed at that, so there was no need to dwell on it.

There wasn't any sound of gunshots from the Uchiha vault room, so I assumed that Itachi had successfully terminated any men that had been guarding the top floor. There was blood staining the beautiful vintage wallpaper and seeping through the varnished wooden floor that mother had complained about for being so expensive. If we ever were to return to this house then we would surely have to refurbish every inch. How tedious.

The vault room was basically my father's old study. A dusty desk covered in papers occupied the centre of the room with millions of books shelved along two of the four walls. Itachi sat in the office chair vacantly as though he hadn't noticed my arrival. It wasn't until Kisame shut the door behind us that he seemed to spring into action.

"Finally. Kisame barricade the door."

"What? Barricade it? Brother, what are you thinking? Can't we just grab it and run?"

The sound of moving furniture would alert the men in the room beneath as well as leave the window as our only exit and open to attack.

Itachi allowed me to take his place in father's chair and walked over to Deidara who was inspecting the wall in the corner of the room where the bookcase ended.

"Sir, I've found it."

The blonde spoke and kept his hand on the patch of wall that he had been examining. Itachi turned to me in order to explain.

"The vault is behind this wall, but it's too deep to get through to without tools. Kisame will have to break through it for us and the noise will probably alert most of Orochimaru's men. The barricade will hopefully hold them off long enough for us to get it and perhaps escape through the window."

His plan was flawed in many places, and not one of his best concoctions, but I trusted him nonetheless. He had yet to fail in getting us out alive. So I watched silently as Deidara marked the wall with his penknife to show where the vault was and Kisame tried to pile the desk and chairs in front of the door as silently as possible, making sure that the furniture didn't scrape across the floor as he moved it. Without Itachi having to even tell me I tried my best to stay awake enough to make a quick exit.

"Please, stand back Itachi-sama."

Kisame spoke and my brother moved over to me to pull my chair further away and out of the reach of any flying debris. Deidara also stood in front of us both as a sort of shield. Kisame's colossal weapon was pulled out of its holster and aimed at the markings on the wall. He took aim for a moment, allowing us to prepare ourselves. I shakily placed my hands over my ears and tucked my head between my knees. I could feel my brothers smooth hands rubbing circles over my back, but I was too numb to feel his warmth as he held me close. Although, when his hands even lightly brushed against my bandage the intense pain in my shoulder returned and filled me with a sense of life. But the sensation seemed to dull after a while. I had already lost quite a bit of blood.

I could sense more than hear Kisame plant five thick bullets into the wall in front of him and shake the entire house. I felt the thudding feet of about thirty men ascend the stairs. When I finally had the strength to lift my head I looked to see my brother and his two men tearing at the hollow wall to reach the vault that was buried deep within the frame of brick. The door rattled on its hinges as the beasts in suits and ties behind it tried to force their way through the door and the piled up furniture in front of it. I could hear the whisper of several curses and swears fall from my brother's lips, sounding strange to me when spoken in such a noble accent as his.

I closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning and from then on estimated what was going on from what little sounds I was able to pay attention to; the wisp of an accomplished sigh when they'd managed to break through to the vault; the clang of various bolts and cogs of the lock system; the creak of the iron door when it had finally been opened.

"Deidara, hand me the bag."

"Yes, sir."

I looked up slowly; my curiosity for my family's secret drastically overpowering my need for rest. Itachi was leaning deeply into the small space in the wall, far enough so that I could only see his shins and feet. Deidara stood behind him with a small toiletry bag at the ready, stolen from my father's en suite. Kisame had his foot holding the desk against the rattling door and his gun cocked and aiming at the men on the other side of it. Sooner rather than later they would break through, but the lining of metal that my father had placed on the door was definitely helping to waste time.

Itachi emerged from the crumbling hole in the wall with a small, antique box in his hands, held with such vigilance. Kisame had even turned around in interest of this sacred weapon. It was smaller than the size of Itachi's palm and I wondered for a moment how great of a weapon it could be if you could lose it down the side of the sofa. I couldn't see any intricate details by fault of my blurred vision, and it was out of my sight when placed carefully into the small bag and zipped shut. It didn't seem very special, but I knew better than to just assume that it wasn't something magnificent. All of a sudden, with our mission accomplished, we paid more attention to our surroundings and the silence.

There hadn't been silence when we'd last noticed.

Something was wrong.

Deidara and my brother got to their feet quickly, keeping an eye on the door and the lack of movement behind it.

"Let's go."

Itachi whispered and Deidara briskly went to open the window. It was as though he had opened the window to an empty void. There were no comforting sounds of wind or passing cars or movement of any kind. It was as though sound itself had suddenly ceased to exist.

We were all tense and on guard. I had even stumbled over to Itachi from my place in the office chair and pulled out my gun. He too had pulled out his gun and placed the small wash bag into the pocket of his holster. It certainly was a precarious place to store our prize, but we didn't come equipped on our mission. It would have to suffice until we found a safer and more secure means of transport for it.

Deidara surveyed the area outside while slowly pulling his gun out. We all backed away from the window in case of a sudden attack.

"Sir, there are no men in my reachable sight. The area seems clear."

He announced quietly and we all looked to my brother for orders.

"I have no doubt in my mind that this is a trap."

Itachi mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. But, instead of changing his plan like I had expected, he pocketed his gun and made his way to the open window. In sudden panic I grabbed his arm.

"Brother, what are you doing? You just said that it was a trap!"

"I know, but we have no other choice. We only have two means of exit and both of them will most probably lead us into danger. However, if we take the window we will at least be a shorter distance from the car to escape."

I was reluctant to soften the hold that I had on his arm. My dependence and tendency to cling to him was shameful. We had been taught from birth that a single doubt of our masculinity would make us lose our sight of the road to success. I found my pride to be more important to me than my life after following such teachings from my father. So, I hid my fearful face and forced myself to release my shaking hand. But before I was able to get too far from him or keel over from fatigue he placed a confident hand on my unwounded shoulder and massaged deep into my bone. I looked up with false bravery and he gave me a nod; something so simple yet it could convey so much. He understood what my reluctance to speak had meant, and he returned my brotherly concern.

"Deidara, clear a path and inspect our escape route for any surprises."

"Yes sir."

Relieved that my brother wouldn't be going first and making himself most vulnerable I watched as our trustworthy western comrade roughly scanned what he could of his surroundings, and then silently leapt from the window. Not thump nor rustle was heard as he hit the ground; an achievement from training that our men held with pride. We didn't get close to the window as he stood to inspect our path, it left us too open from a distant attack. So we waited for his signal.

In silence we could hear the opening of the car door and listened for any struggle. But there was none. Our sign to tell us that the coast was clear came in the form of a small paper bird landing on the windowsill. Bird calls and noises were far too dangerous to execute without being detected. As if any birds would still be gathered around an area where gun fire had been generously shared between parties. This paper bird was Deidara's personal signal for us. One that was small enough to float by undetected and its symbolism could only be encoded by those who knew him.

"This time, I go first."

Itachi spoke and crumpled the paper creation into his pocket.

I nodded in reply, but regretted doing so a moment later when a sharp pain settled in from the blood that sloshed around in my head. Itachi headed over to the window to quickly scope the path back to the car.

"Sasuke-sama. Would you like me to carry you?"

I waved away Kisame's suggestion politely and kept my gaze on Itachi as he leapt from the window. The breeze carried away any miniscule sound that he had made with his landing. I peered over the windowsill tentatively and saw him pressed against the wall, waiting for me to jump down. It was indeed a long drop to the grassy floor. I probably wouldn't execute my jump as professionally as usual with my many physical impediments. But that didn't stop me.

I dashed to the window with determination, but stupidly I hit my wounded shoulder against the frame of the window the second that I leapt off. The pain overpowered my sense of balance and I struggled to keep myself upright during my descent. My sight even began to fade moments before I hit the floor and the detail of the grass I was approaching blurred into a haze of green mist that looked as though I could easily faze through it. Itachi stepped in just in time. He jumped up stealthily and wrapped his figure around me so to straighten my angle and keep my feet straight for me to land on. I remembered to bend my knees and let the ground absorb the shock of my weight, just like I'd learnt in my training. With the guidance of my brother I had been able to land silently. Finally Kisame appeared beside us and kept his hand on his gun while scouting for any of Orochimaru's men.

It was then that I finally recognised why this was definitely an ambush. Not only were Orochimaru's men absent from eye and ear, but there was no sign from any of our own soldiers either. They had probably been lured off or disposed of quickly. Orochimaru used all sorts of drugs on his followers to keep himself safe. Half of the people working for him weren't even human anymore, not capable of anything except for swinging their muscled arms at strangers and screaming nonsense in unutterable rage. The men of the Uchiha would be no match for them in our small numbers. We'd lost so many men in our last confrontation that we'd even had to take those boys still in training along with us on this mission. So many phone calls and visits would have to be made to worrying mothers and wives of our brave men.

But that's a subject that would have to be thought about in more detail when this was over. For now we stood with our backs pressed against the wall behind us. We could see the black car a little while away. It was very dark, but we could all clearly see the figure of Deidara sitting behind the wheel. His rough ponytail defined his silhouette. Itachi dashed off into the dark without any notification and Kisame pushed me off after him. I crouched and kept my hand on my gun as I spread each leg in front of me, one after the other in a synchronised rhythm with Itachi.

It happened so quickly. I didn't have the chance to do anything.

As we closed in on the car without any resistance I could feel that something wasn't right. They wouldn't just let us leave so easily. When Itachi swung open the passenger side door...

...I just...

...a gun was fired. Not one of ours, that was certainly true.

A bullet scratched my ear and I halted completely mid run. The bullet that had grazed me had been the one that pierced Itachi right through the chest.

Everything slowed down for a moment and I was able to imagine that I had taken a moment to recover from shock. But in reality I hadn't rested at all. As quickly as I had stopped I was sprinting again. As Itachi stumbled a second figure inside the car was revealed to me; a tanned hulk of a man who sat smiling in the back seat. I aimed my gun as best as I could and fired four rounds. It took two bullets to break through his skull, and his open mouthed smile swallowed the other two and broke through the back of his throat. He slumped backward against the opposite window.

Itachi hadn't fully fallen. He was holding on to his balance like the proud Uchiha he was told he should be. Clutching the wound on his chest he held onto the car door and pulled out the man that I had made into a corpse. As my distance from him decreased I could see who it was.

Kidomaru. I'd partaken in small talk with him once in my life. He had been a strange man when he was alive. One of Orochimaru's henchmen.

Itachi barely managed to climb into the back seat and I made my way into the passenger's side, expecting that the man sitting beside me would take on the task of driving. But, Deidara was gone and all he had left was a useless body. Webs were wrapped around him to hold him in a sitting position; a technique that had been a trademark of Kidomaru. His eyes were open in shock and his blood flooded the dashboard from the holes through his cheek and eye.

As much as I wanted to pay respects to the body of a good man I was in far too much of a hurry. Kisame joined Itachi in the back and shut the door just in time. A row of bullets penetrated the car as soon as the door had been closed.

Cutting away the webs with my hands I pushed Deidara out of the way and over the gear stick, into the foot hole of the passenger's seat. The car had already been started and I slammed my foot on the accelerator as soon as the break was released. The lights of four other cars turned on behind me and set off just as quickly.

I had no idea where the hell I was driving to. I was just continuously changing lanes, going the wrong way down one way streets, trying to find any sort of secluded roads to keep the public out of this drama.

Orochimaru's brainless creations had no sense of discretion or regard for authority. They fired guns without aiming and hit most of the cars around us, shop windows, maybe even a pedestrian or two.

"Kisame, how's Itachi doing?"

I yelled back while practically throwing the car around a sharp corner to avoid a spray of fire from the huge gun being fired behind us. Deidara's body fluid on the dashboard swayed and rippled every time the car moved.

"He isn't doing well, Sasuke-sama. We need to find some medical help."

Once I was set onto a long, straight road I took the chance to look back at Itachi. I suddenly felt more sick than I had the entire evening. Itachi was spread across Kisame's lap while he tried to apply pressure to the wound. There was already a lot of blood soaking the back seat and only a fifth of it was mine that had been spilled beforehand.

I couldn't stop the car anywhere. Four cars were still tailing us and firing at random in our direction. Even slowing down was a serious risk.

I turned sharply onto a new road. I recognised this one. I used to walk home from school this way. It was perfect.

"Kisame, as soon as I turn at the top of this road there is an alleyway on your right. Jump out as soon as I turn and hide down there until I lure them off. They aren't far behind, but there's enough distance to block their sight on the corner."

"Sasue-sama, that plan is far too dangerous. You are in almost as bad a shape as Itachi-sama. I will not leave you alone."

"Itachi is unconscious right now, which means that he can't be in charge. This leaves the decisions up to me. Until Itachi wakes up I am your boss, so follow my orders. Is that understood?"

My voice didn't shake or waver. It felt as though Itachi's soul had entered me. I think I finally understood how my brother had always managed to keep calm in situations like this.

For the sake of my most precious person I needed Kisame to follow my orders. If I sounded hesitant then Kisame would easily pick up on it and play it against me to convince me to not go through with the plan. If I sounded confident then Kisame would feel that I knew what I was doing and he would trust me. Being the boss is about knowing what you're doing. Right now, _I_ was the boss.

"Yes sir."

He barked, just like how he would to Itachi. I felt pride in knowing that I had become the master to Itachi's loyal dog, just for now.

"Hand me the wash bag."

Kisame rummaged through Itachi's pocket and found the small bag. I held my hand out over my shoulder and he placed it into my palm. The weight of the box inside shocked me, but more than this, the weight of the responsibility I held shocked me even more. I put the bag in my lap and held it between my knees.

With the Sharingan in my possession Itachi would be able to go to a hospital without the worry of keeping it protected or being stolen while he was being looked after.

"When I'm clear I will phone you to confirm a meeting place. Act on my signal."

The corner was coming up. Kisame scooped Itachi into his arms and held him into his chest, prepared to jump. He didn't open the door. If he did then the men behind us would see it open and suspect that we had escaped. So the window was the best option. It had already been shot through so it was wide open for his escape.

As I reached the end of the road I used all of my weight to throw the steering wheel to the right and get as close to the curb as possible.

"Go!"

I screamed and Kisame just managed to dive through the window. I saw through my rear view mirror that as soon as he had rolled into the alley Orochimaru's men turned the corner. They kept on driving after me so I deemed it safe to assume that they hadn't noticed the decrease in passengers.

Now, without having to worry about Itachi, all I had to do was find a place to hide for a little while until they lost my scent. I knew this road just as well as the last. There was a parking lot a little ways up with a maze of alleys and side roads for me to duck through. Another perfect opportunity had found me.

I took my hands off of the wheel for a moment to pick up the bag in my lap. I tucked my shirt into both my trousers and my underwear and put the bag down my shirt. That would have to be its home for the time being, until I could find a coat with pockets.

I inspected the road again. The turning was coming up soon.

I reached under the seat and grabbed the box of bullets hidden there. I tipped the whole thing into the ammunition pouch of my holster. My gun was fastened to me securely.

I put one hand back on the wheel and used the other to pat the head of Deidara whose blood was flooding the foot hole of the passenger's side.

"I'm sorry that I cannot give your body the proper burial ceremony deserved. But at the very least please accept my promise to avenge you."

I then lifted my pendant to my lips and whispered a quick prayer to my mother.

"Guide me, Okaa-san."

Just as I had done before I threw the wheel across and turned sharply to catch my chasers off guard. I opened the door and dived out a few seconds premature of hitting the brick wall along with the car. It didn't burst into flames or anything, but the impact made it rear back into the enemy car that had just turned the corner.

I hadn't landed well. My shoulder had received most of the blow and I took a moment to writhe in pain before I pulled myself up again. My vision was streaked with grey and I had to blindly scramble towards the alley in front of me.

Many crimes had been committed between these two walls and many people had gotten themselves horribly lost in the intricate workings of back alleys, side alleys and car parks. But I knew my way well enough and my trained intuition was unbeatable.

I swayed heavily as I ran. I would hit the wall every time I turned a corner. It was only until I was at my limit that I slowed down. I tripped against a wall and fell to my knees in pain.

Everything hurt.

Through my deep breaths I choked and heaved on something awful that rose in my throat. I spat out whatever disgusting substance I had gagged on. It was a mixture of blood, vomit, stomach acid and saliva. It reeked, and the scent pushed me back into the opposite wall.

I heard one set of running feet echoing through the alley I had just come down. One of the men had actually had the luck to find me.

I couldn't fire my gun. Even with the silencer on it would make enough noise to alert the others of my position. This meant that I had to shut him up the old fashion way.

The straps on my upper arms that were hidden by my sleeve carried four kunai on each. I only needed one to get rid of him. It _had_ to be a shot to the head. If I wounded him on any other place on his body then he'd have the chance to scream and attract the attention of the others.

I shuffled on my knees to the corner that the man was approaching and I pulled myself up ungracefully. I ripped off my sleeve to reach a kunai and I clasped it tightly in my hand. My grip was clumsy and the bandaged metal of the Kunai's handle was easily slipping free from my hold. The control I had over my arm was failing. Even though it wasn't too dangerous an amount, a lot of blood had escaped from the wound in my shoulder, quickly turning my hand into a limp and useless appendage. I even had to resort to using my other hand to curl my fingers around the handle. The Kunai just felt so heavy.

I could hear the echo of cheap, plastic loafers thudding closer towards me. They were clumsy and heavy. Like a wild man; obviously one of Orochimaru's drugged up cronies. I had no doubt about it.

Even with my senses dulled I could easily tell when he was in the right position to strike; his powerful steps shook the ground, I could smell the putrid sweat on his clothes, I could hear the ragged groan of every breath, in and out, I could even feel the heat radiating off of his overworked body. He had put a lot of effort into finding me and now he had carelessly worn himself out. He didn't even have enough stamina left to defeat me while I was wounded and sick.

As soon as I saw the toe of his shoe peek out from around the corner I sprung into action. Using both of my hands on the Kunai I plunged the blade into his temple, feeling the resistance from his skull and thick flesh.

I cursed quietly and covered the man's mouth after he moaned painfully, even with the absence of consciousness. With shaking arms I tried my best to slowly lower him to the floor, but he was just too thick for me to support. His fake, drug induced muscles weighed more than two of me could handle. His body lifelessly thumped onto the ground. The noise wasn't too loud. But just as I had feared, the alleyways were all so vacant and enclosed that what was at first a little sound reverberated off of thirty sets of brick walls and ended up being quite a loud sound. A sound that was loud enough for all of Orochimaru's men to hear.

And suddenly I could hear the echo of twenty pairs of cheap, plastic loafers all winding through the alleyways towards me, from all different directions.

This time I was in too much of a panic to get to my feet as quickly as before. I practically swam across the cement canal, away from the body, and to the next corner. The scent of car fumes was strong. I was close to the main road. As much as I hated to involve the public, I could easily hide myself within a crowd of pedestrians.

But that would be difficult as I was. My designer trousers were ripped and scuffed in several places, half of the buttons on my dress shirt had popped off and exposed my chest, my bandage had been soaked through with crimson and my shirt had started to absorb the liquid. Even my face was too banged up to look normal. No one would believe that I had fallen down the stairs or something, not to mention the ghastly white hue to my skin that looked far from a natural pale.

Then I had a disgusting idea.

Orochimaru's goon.

He had a suit.

I looked back at the body.

The Kunai I had left there was stopping most of the blood from pooling, and the jacket was clean other than having a bit of dirt on it.

Just as I had done before, I refused to show respect for the dead.

He had failed to survive and now his body was useful for me to succeed.

The collar of the jacket was soaked with sweat and the shoulder pads drooped over my shoulders to halfway down my upper arm. But at least I was covered enough to hide the blots of red that bloomed like a rose on my shoulder through my shirt.

I scrambled to my feet hastily as I heard two men approaching me quickly ahead of the others.

As I reached for another Kunai on my shoulder the heavy cufflink of the jacket caught on one of the last few buttons on my shirt. My arm movement was so swift and clumsy that my shirt ripped open and the small bag that had been tucked down there fell to the floor. It bounced on the gravel lightly, and the echo of the knocked wood of the box recreated the sound of a guiro. It was probably chipped.

I have never been one to use profanities.

But as I dove after the treasure I probably recited the whole alphabet of curses.

I opened the bag quickly and tossed it to the floor to inspect my family's secret. I rubbed off the dirt on the surface of the small wooden box very carefully. I didn't know for sure how strong a hand would set off this supposedly colossal weapon. This small clumsy incident was enough of a distraction to allow the two men to completely cover the distance to me.

"Oi! It's the younger one!"

The wild and unknown voice broke my concentration. I turned back into the winding alley to see two hulking men trying to squeeze past each other in order to attack. They looked like two raging bulls, nudging the other into the walls so that they would have the chance to earn victory.

In turn they pulled a gun from inside their jackets and with my free hand I pulled mine from its holster. I doubted that I'd actually hit them though. My hands were unsteady. I fired three rounds in their direction and each of the bullets ricocheted off the walls and missed them horribly. By this time the man in the lead was close enough for me to see his gaping pores. He fired a bullet over my head.

What happened next wasn't the cause of luck.

My life didn't flash before my eyes. My life is far too long to see all at once. I was just contemplating what to write on my grave, what would happen to my brother, what would happen to the rest of the world with Orochimaru being in possession of the Sharingan. I squeezed the small box out of instinct and held it to my chest, over the insignia that hung around my neck.

And then...something washed over me.

It was like someone had just opened a window within me. I could practically feel the foreign winds of a different reality.

Whatever it was, it opened my third eye.

This is the power of the Sharingan.

The two men seemed to move at half of their original pace.

I saw the front man slowly pull the trigger of his handgun and aim right for my chest. The bullet eased out of the gun at a lazy speed and crept towards me. It was about to hit me, so I stepped to the side and it continued its path down the alley.

Another few bullets were fired and the same thing happened. I ducked and weaved around the blocks of floating metal and approached the two men. I couldn't move very fast either. There was this weight against me that stopped me from moving, like you would feel when you tried to run in water.

I raised my gun and held it directly to the forehead of one of the men. It was disgusting to see the slow detail of the bullet penetrating him. He obviously didn't have enough time to stop me and I saw his face contort in agony as the small metal object drilled itself through his skin, blood projecting from the wound to mark his face and my hand. I turned away before I saw it break through his skull.

The other man was only a second behind with his own gun locked onto me. His mouth was gaping as he screamed and saliva flooded from the crevices between his teeth where he was missing a few. I repeated my action but held the gun to his neck, shooting twice. I looked away this time so that I didn't have to observe the damage that I had inflicted upon him.

He still had life within him and I sensed him take another shot at me.

I knew it was coming and I knew where it was aimed for, but that unknown force stopped me from dodging it in time. It came towards my back, so I stepped to the side and turned around, only for it to mark its way deeply into my exposed hip.

That window within me closed and I felt all the power sucked from me. First, the two men hit the floor, and then I followed soon after. I put pressure on my fresh wound and saw my own nectar leaking onto the ground and stain my trousers.

I almost fell asleep there and then, but something then hit my face. It was a cold, clear liquid.

Rain.

I tell you with no trace of sarcasm that rain would actually increase my chances of a successful escape.

Other pedestrians would be running wildly to escape the unpleasant weather so I could easily seem unsuspicious if I ran. They would be almost as dishevelled as myself when soaked and I wouldn't seem too out of place. My hair would flatten when wet and I wouldn't fit my description of having naturally spiked hair. Rain would also disorient the men chasing me, making it harder for them to detect me.

The only downside to rain would be that water would coax faster blood loss from my wounds and also irritate my illness. Even with my immeasurable amount of endurance I would probably only be able to stay conscious for a little while longer, so my time for escape was limited.

I reached over to my sleeve that I had torn off not too long ago. I folded it a few times and tucked the bottom half into my trousers so that it covered my fresh wound. By tucking my tattered shirt into my trousers as well I managed to hold the makeshift bandage in place. I buttoned up the jacket to cover any patches of blood and tore Orochimaru's emblem off of the jacket pocket.

It was difficult to catch my breath, but I pretended that my breathing was even. I tensed my legs to stop my knees from shaking. I used the rainwater to pull back my hair and restyle it to look like I had gelled it back. Then I slipped the Sharingan into the jacket pocket, all the while keeping my hand on it.

Even while I was able to hear men screaming after me I suppressed the urge to run and managed to walk out onto the street looking completely calm and in character. Seeing business men jogging to their cars I gained the confidence to start a fast paced jog to look for a place to hide. Most shops were closed by now, but the bright lights of a small restaurant stayed lit.

"Ichikaru's"

I read the name out loud. It was busy with people trying to escape the rain, but there were a few free tables including a small booth at the back. I managed to pull off a purposeful entrance without having to slow down my jog. I pushed past a few tables towards the booth, not caring whether I needed a reservation or not.

When I sat down my hip hit the corner of the table. It took a lot of will power to hide my cringe of pain. I faked a cough to disguise my wince but that only served to disturb my shoulder wound that I had almost forgotten about.

The restaurant was disgusting; a bright red and yellow theme with plastic seating, paper menus and an open-view kitchen. I lowered my head to the menu but kept an eye on the large window at the front of the restaurant. When I saw the first of Orochimaru's men emerge from the alley I dropped my head into my hand and brushed back my hair. I could have fallen asleep in that position. When I closed my eyes it felt like I was in my cradle as a baby.

I didn't notice the waiter until he had begun to rudely wave his hands in front of my face.

"Pardon?"

I croaked and rubbed my eyes, looking up at him with disinterest. I didn't like his blonde hair. It reflected the glare from the spotlights and stung my dry eyes.

"I said. What do you want? If you're not eating then you can't stay here. Not enough tables for everyone."

He shrugged his shoulders and pointed a tanned hand to the menu, indicating that I had to make a decision. I chose the first thing I saw.

"I'll have the shoyu ramen."

"Anything to drink?"

"Do you have vodka?"

Alcohol was probably the worst choice of drink. It would dehydrate me even further and with an empty stomach it would take very little to get me quickly intoxicated. But I was in so much pain; I just needed to numb it for a little while.

"Not that I know of. People don't normally have spirits with ramen."

"Then get me the drink with the highest alcohol percentage."

"Do you have any I.D?"

I looked up at his face comically.

"Do you honestly think I look like a kid?"

He shrugged his shoulders for what seemed like the fifth time and scratched the markings on his cheeks lightly.

"It's our policy. You could have grey hair and a mile long beard and I'd still have to ask for I.D."

I snarled and very slowly reached into my pocket. I didn't have any of my fake identification cards with me. I only had my real drivers licence. If he saw who I was then I would be making a terrible risk.

The Uchiha name wasn't unknown around Tokyo. Of course the ever oblivious public associated my name with criminal workings thanks to our reputation of leaving the corpses of even worse criminals around town. They didn't understand what we did to help them.

If this stranger saw me then I could be reported to the police...or worse yet, I could be reported to Orochimaru. He had undercover agents scattered around the city like crumbs in a breadbin. It seemed impossible to count them all.

I looked to the window out of the corner of my eye for only half a moment.

More suited men had gathered onto the street, talking into earpieces and stopping pedestrians.

I didn't have much of a choice when I gave the man my I.D. but I was screaming at myself for doing so. I watched his face as he looked at my picture and read my details.

He took too long analysing it. And when he got this strange look on his face I was sure that he was going to shoot me then and there. His cheeks with the whisker marks twitched in a strange way, like he was hiding a smile.

"Cool. You're exactly two months older than me."

He handed it back with a cool expression. I was suspicious and a little alarmed by the fact that I wasn't already dead by now, but I snatched back my licence and pocketed it.

"Alright. Shoyu ramen and beer coming right-"

The waiter broke off midsentence. I looked up to see him distracted by something out of the front window.

"What's going on out there?"

Someone in the restaurant whispered loudly, and I realised that nearly everyone had turned their heads to see what all of the commotion was about.

About forty men had emerged from cars and alleyways to gather in the middle of the road, stopping traffic and grabbing every pedestrian that came near them. Each of them wore Orochimaru's emblem on their breast pockets.

I ducked my head quickly and covered my face in my hands. There was no way I would be resting tonight by the looks of it.

"Hey, are you alright?"

The stupid blonde was still standing there just looking at me.

"I'm great."

I hissed through my teeth and pulled back my hair once more. It felt nice. By pulling my hair I was distracted from the pain in the rest of my body, and my hazy mind would clear for just a moment.

I closed my eyes and fisted my hair again.

The blonde waiter still hadn't moved! I could feel him stealing my air. So, I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster under the circumstances.

He was obviously affected by my expression by the look on his own face. He stretched an awkward smile and flipped his notepad shut.

"Sorry. I'll just get your order."

With that he scuffled off.

I kept my eye on the window and waited for the men to clear.

If they weren't gone by the time I had finished a meal then I would just have to order another one.

Although I only had a bit of money on me it was still enough to keep me eating indoors for most of the evening, and maybe even a bit spare for a motel room.

I was hopeful that they wouldn't dare come into the diner. Orochimaru's men were reckless, but they weren't stupid. They should know from what little training they had that entering the diner was a huge risk if they ever hoped to successfully capture me.

So, as I suspected, they used what little initiative they had and split up into groups to search the streets, only doing as much as glancing in through the windows to check if I was hiding in a store. With my hair slicked back and my clothes changed I managed to stare an idiotic thug in the face and remain unrecognised. The man continued on.

I didn't feel a sense of achievement or pride in being able to hide from the enemy. I was acting like a coward and there was a part of my personality that hated the idea of such a thing. I even had an urge to dash out into the street and make myself know to the men just to restore that little bit of self respect that I had lost.

"Here you go. Shoyu and beer."

A bowl and glass were placed in front of me while I was still staring out of the window. I didn't even notice that I had been served until the sickly scent of the food invaded my senses.

"Thanks."

I braved a smile and raised my beer glass to the blonde waiter. It seemed to weigh more than I had expected and I could feel the strain of my muscles in my shoulder. But I swallowed the cold drink gratefully, savouring the dull, drunken haze that slowly came over me. I already felt that little bit more optimistic and some of my will returned to me just from that one pint of alcohol.

Before the waiter walked away I handed him a handful of money from my pocket that I didn't even check to count. I could already see that I had dramatically overpaid for the watery ramen that I had been served.

"Keep the change."

I told him and I got out from the booth to leave.

I could hear the man calling after me as I stormed out.

"Hey, that ramen took effort to make you know? The least you could do is taste it!"

With my new, slightly drunk outlook I didn't even notice that everyone in the restaurant was looking at me. I just moved fluidly and confidently around the tables and out the door, trying to look casual and uncaring that there were still suited men lurking about the street.

"Oi, you tipped me ¥5000! Hey, you!"

The waiter called from the entrance of the restaurant and I waved him away so not to draw any attention to myself, wishing that he would accept my generous donation as a blessing rather than something to be suspicious about.

I walked at a leisurely pace to no set destination. My home was probably under high security and that filthy spy, Kabuto, had probably revealed to Orochimaru the locations of our 'safe houses', so they weren't an option either.

But, despite my uncertainty I stormed on with drunken assurance.

I would find a motel outside of the city to rest and prepare for a while, at least until I was fit and sober enough to defend myself properly. Then I would find Itachi.

Walking within a small crowd of strangers I felt the rain once again soak through my clothes and soften the dried blood of my wounds. Red rivulets began to form through my white shirt, down my temple and face, across my hands from under my sleeves. It was becoming increasingly noticeable that I wasn't in a healthy condition.

I could even hear the quiet plod of another man's footsteps keeping in perfect pace with my own.

For a moment I questioned if it was an enemy, and if it was then why were they following me instead of shooting me on sight.

But it didn't matter. Either way I intended to get away from them.

Tripping over myself I ducked into another alley, feeling as though I was just going back on myself after finally getting out into the open.

Suddenly, after falling into a wall I felt the pain in my hip double. The bullet was still in there and I could feel every curve of it digging into my flesh. Not even the alcohol could numb it. So I held my hand over the open wound and put on as much pressure as I could with my weakness, slowly sliding to the floor to find a comfortable position.

With the wet floor soaking through my suit I pulled out another kunai and waited for my stalker.

When I saw a looming silhouette at the entrance of the alley I myself frozen, thinking by the muscled build of them that it was one of Orochimaru's lackeys.

But there was something different about this man that I noticed instantly.

He wore an apron instead of a suit.

And his blonde hair glimmered like a halo, reflecting the streetlights behind him.

"Jesus, next time you try to hide an injury make sure you don't leave blood stains all over the seat. That chair is going to take ages to clean."

It was the stupid waiter from the restaurant, come to try and play the hero in my sob story.

"Now, where are you injured?"

He huffed as he approached me with a confident stride.

"I don't need your help."

"Is that why you're on the floor?"

I broke eye contact with him after I was overtaken with a sense of shame. I tried to get back up on my own, but my legs crumbled beneath me.

A tanned paw was held out towards me.

"Give me your hand and I'll help you up. We need to get you to hospital."

The mentioning of the word hospital had me in panic. In a hospital I would be a sitting duck in open waters.

Batting his hand away from me I edged to the wall and clawed myself to standing.

"No, we don't need to get me anywhere. _I_ need to get home. Now if you'd excuse me."

He grabbed my shoulder, effectively pulling me into him.

"Woah, woah. You aren't going anywhere on your own like that. Now let me at least see you're wound. I'll be the judge of whether you should go to a hospital or not."

"I'm being serious now. Leave me alone. You're really annoying."

"Just let me look."

As he tried to unbutton the jacket I wore I found new strength in desperation and pushed him into the opposite wall, nearly making myself fall over as well. I almost felt guilty to see him wince at the impact.

"You don't even know me. Go away!"

I tried to rush back out into the street in order to escape this ridiculously good willed idiot.

"Hold up! I just-"

He lunged for me and seized my hand in his own.

I didn't do anything to struggle out of his grip at first, because he wasn't doing anything either. He just held my hand and gave me a strange look as though he were analysing me.

At first I contemplated over how his hand was unusually warm.

But after thinking about it for a moment, I realised that it was _my_ hand that was unusually warm due to my fever.

He probably discovered that quite quickly, because I didn't have enough time to react when he placed his other hand on my forehead.

"You dumbass! You've got a really bad fever! What the hell are you doing wandering 'round if you're that sick?"

I peeled his hand off me and considered knocking him out as an option to cut this meeting short.

"Are you the one those thugs are after?"

I didn't answer and proceeded back onto the street.

"They're obviously gonna get you sooner rather than later if you don't-"

Bang.

A bullet hit the wall next to me. The fucking son-of-a-blonde-stupid-bitch blew my cover. Now, I had to run for my fucking life!

"Holy shit! That was damn close!"

"Shut up and run you stupid civilian!"

Pulling on the collar of his shirt I convinced the man to follow me in escaping. If I'd left him to stand there the poor idiot probably would have just let them shoot him and not realised it until he was on the floor spilling his guts out.

"It's the Uchiha! All men to the alley by fourth."

I heard the booming voice of the man who was now chasing the two of us back through the alley to where I had started from. I was just taking one random turn after the next and my blonde baggage was following me just as blindly.

"Where are you running to?"

He shouted to me over the sound of bullets drilling into the bricks of the alley walls.

"I don't know."

"How many guys are after you?"

"I don't know."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"So why do they want to kill you?"

"There are many reasons."

"Aren't you gonna tell me?"

A bullet came at me from above and I found myself sprinting at twice the speed that I had been before, with my blonde companion struggling to keep up.

"They're on the roof, too!"

"Nice use of detective skills Sherlock, but I can see that for myself."

"I'm just trying to help!"

"Well, you don't have the right to! Now shut up and just follow me!"

My short burst of energy was quickly fading, and my footing suddenly becoming not as confident as it had been. There were goons shooting from behind us, from the fire escapes above us and even emerging from back doors of the buildings we passed, as though they were infinitely spawning from nowhere. I was running out of ideas and will power very quickly.

"Ah, I know this alley!"

My temporary accomplice behind me shouted to me and sped up to meet me, grabbing my hand in the process. His stamina was surprising.

"Come on!"

He sprung to action now that he had an idea where we were, dragging me behind him by our linked hands. I just allowed myself to be pulled, putting more trust in the idiot than I should have. I'd be passed out in a matter of minutes anyway, no matter where he took me.

After having torrents of rain blind me at the speed we were going I was forced to lower my head, leaving only the sight of our dashing feet hitting the tarmac to give me a clue as to where I was going.

I was suddenly pulled sharply to the left and the bullets quietened as our pursuers tried to catch up to us.

My hand was released and I looked up to see what was happening.

The light haired man was pulling and banging on the heavy back door of an unused department store. I took that moment to catch my breath and lean against the wall. The buffoon was wasting my time to escape and allowing the enemy to cover the distance between us.

Pulling out my gun I tried to pull the guy away from the door.

"No use trying to open it, you idiot! It's probably locked and you can't-"

I was interrupted by him lifting his leg and planting one swift kick to the door, effectively swinging it open; a strength that had taken me years of training to achieve.

I didn't have enough time to be shocked or threatened by this man's skill because he was already pulling me through the open door and throwing me across the storage room.

"Find something to keep this closed!"

He ordered while slamming it shut.

Snapping to attention I waded through boxes in a frantic search, smashing a few packaged lamps in the process. Hidden beneath a pile of wrapped up chairs and tables at the back was a large loading trolley. It was heavy and stiff to push, but I managed to wheel it over to the door and he minded out of the way to help me. We worked as though we were in synch. Before I had to ask him he was breaking off a table leg to jam the wheels of the trolley. We were off running into the store just as they started to kick at the other side of the door.

"There's an underground station just round the corner from here. If we can get there unnoticed then it should be easy sailing."

I silently agreed and just followed him through the store like a lost child in the dark. The silhouettes of furniture and mannequins all looked menacing to me while I was on high alert. Strangely I preferred being outside under the street lamps where I was able to see those who attacked me instead of being under an unfamiliar roof where I couldn't decipher where the shadows ended and the solid objects began.

A stream of light emitted from the glass entrance, streaked by graffiti and flyers. The door wouldn't be alarmed but it would most certainly be locked.

Wanting to prove to myself and the man next to me that I wasn't a weakling like I was being made out to be, I kicked the door with all my strength while in mid-leap. The glass cracked but didn't shatter and the metal of the frame was dented with the impact of my foot. I didn't stop to admire my handy work and just dashed on as planned, once again in the lead like it was supposed to be.

We had yet to be followed.

My accomplice had a wide smile across his face as though he thought we were home free.

The underground entrance came into view. We were probably only a few minutes away from catching the last train for the evening.

Then, just as I began to descend down the concrete stairs, a gruff cry came from over my shoulder and the warm weight of a human body was crushed against me.

My shoulder took most of the blow and I was temporarily blinded with pain. I bit my lip in attempt to hold back a cry of my own and I felt my knees buckle and shake. I blacked out after I tumbled and saw the next step come up to greet me. When I composed myself again I was lying at the bottom of the stairs in the middle of the entrance with a blonde head of hair resting upon my chest and my gun that had skidded a few feet away from me.

Just those few seconds of being unconscious had frightened the life out of me. I couldn't remember the pain of my impact with the stairs, but I could feel the remains of it when I tried to sit up.

"Mother fucker! Get the hell off of me!"

I screamed and tried to scramble out from beneath the crushing weight of the man on top of me. His limbs were digging into every fresh wound. The pain was so unbearable that I found it a necessary emergency to allow myself to curse; not that I could have stopped myself from screaming bloody murder anyway.

In his panic to get off of me the imbecile dug his hand into my wounded shoulder to lift himself, only causing me to scream that little bit louder.

"Oh shit, oh shit-I'm so sorry. My leg-h-he shot me in the leg-I couldn't stop myself-are you okay?-oh fuck of course you're not-fuck-"

He rambled on, gently tucking his arm underneath my back so to pull me into a sitting position. Of course, I couldn't feel what he was doing anymore. I was too focused on the throbbing hole in my shoulder and the numbing ache in my head that was telling me to plug the leaks in my body as fast as fucking possible. I was shaking pretty badly.

"Okay, you've gotta get up. We'll help each other walk okay? But we gotta hurry 'coz the last train is leaving soon."

I nodded, barely hearing him, and used his shoulder and arm to pull myself up. He was the one to pick up my gun and put it back in my hand.

The train station was practically empty. There were no security guards to stop us from climbing over the turnstiles.

We both shuffled ridiculously towards the platform while using each other for support. My arm was around his neck and his was around my waist.

"There he is! I'll fucking kill you, you little-"

A bullet ricocheted off of the metal turnstile, and other smashed the glass of the booth beside it.

As we shuffled together I blindly aimed my gun behind me and shot wildly. By the sound of it, two of the bullets I fired hit nothing but air. But when I fired the third one their came a yell and the echo of a man calling me something along the lines of 'a cocksucking mother-fucker'.

If I had looked back I would have seen that the bullet had torn through his wrist and that his gun had skidded through the turnstile and towards us.

But we didn't look back and practically dragged ourselves to the platform where the last train of the evening had just that second opened the doors to the station.

We let go of eachother to make a dash for the doors and impacted the other side of the train once we had made it inside.

****With a white-knuckled grip on the handle above me I saw the doors slide shut, and through the glass I watched as the train began to creep through the station. It was when the train had just about departed when I saw three suited men with guns run onto the platform in search for us.

When the train jerked in motion I went with it and collapsed onto an empty seat.

"Shit, that was intense. You got a place to escape to?"

He'd sat down next to me, I could feel him brush my side, but I didn't have the strength to answer.

"Hey, you okay? Oi!"

Letting out a deep sigh I let my eyes roll back, and my gun slipped from my hand without me hearing that it had hit the floor.

* * *

_Man, that chapter wasn't even very long, but it took me ages to write. I've been so determined to finish it so that I could get to the proper action._

_If anyone has wanted to read this story, sorry for the immense lateness. My laptop went 'boom' and the screen fell off of it and all of the stuff inside it was lost. So after writing almost all of the chapter and then having it disappear was a real downer. Had to write it all over again. This means that my other stories are in the same condition and I'm getting too busy to be able to properly concentrate on them._

_But luckily I have written out all of the dialogue for the next few chapters of this story and my other ones. I've just got to write what is actually going on and use my theasaurus on it._

_I'm trying really hard and I hope you like this chapter...I put a hell of a lot of effort into it and i hope it pays off. But if there are any typos or errors of any kind then please tell me about them so that I can fix them. Thanks a bunch_

_Bed of nails and sandpaper_

_(my writer name is starting to sound very odd to me...I might need to change it to something less sinister)  
_


	3. Chapter 3

I was dreaming.

I knew that I was dreaming.

There was no other way for me to see my father's face again other than in my dreams...or nightmares.

My memories of him were indelible. No matter how many times I rubbed away at the image of his face in my mind, it was still distinct and clear. Exactly the same as he had always been. This dream was no different. I was looking up at his looming figure in the open slit of his office door. His usually pristine suit was creased and ruffled, his tie thrown to the floor and his cuff links ripped off from the careless way which he had pulled up his sleeves. A white knuckled grip was holding to his grey tinted hair.

"How could this happen? Your ancestors must be laughing at us!"

He was crying to the heavens. Leering back and forth over my mother that sat in his office chair. She reached out a delicate palm to his arm. She had always been so soft spoken and gentle.

"Fugaku, darling, please calm down-"

"No! I shall do no such thing! My efforts have all been wasted! Itachi is the one with all of the skill, the knowledge, the instinct! And yet it's this lowly creature that-"

"Don't say that. He's your son."

"That spawn is not my son! He's nothing but a waste of-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. I did not hold him in my womb for nine months for you to dismiss him in such a way."

She had stood up from the chair, allowing her billowing nightgown to drop from one of her pale shoulders. Her dark tresses brushed her porcelain face; the first time that I had ever seen my mother without her hair traditionally tied away from her face. Her shimmering eyes were stunning and soft. As dark as my own and my brother's. My father had stopped his pacing and stamping when he heard her speak. I could only see his back as he walked over to her, and held her fragile hands in his own.

"I will fix this."

He stated finally. He kissed her cheek, and I could see my mothers eyes begin to tear up, and the exposed white of her shoulders begin to quiver. My father wrapped his thick arms around her frame, and I was worried that he would crush her. But she held strong to him, stroking her flawless cheek against his neck. He spoke again to her, softly so that I could barely hear his words.

"I will most definitely fix this."

I didn't understand, and I wouldn't for a long time. Why did my mother cry, why did my father spurn me, and why was this the start of my unusual childhood? I sat by the door, watching my parents hold each other.

"I will not allow Itachi's talents to be wasted. All because of that little thief."

Hearing such distaste in my father's voice I backed away from the door, as silently as a five year old child could do. My back knocked against the warm hip of my older brother who had been standing behind me. He lowered himself to my height so I could look into his troubled eyes, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into the comfort of his chest.

"It's okay Sasuke. Go to bed."

I could feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest, and I leant further into him, feeling the childish fatigue after such excitement.

"What were they talking about?"

I mumbled in question, as he lifted me into his arms. My weak hands held tight to his shoulders as he carried me to my large, empty bedroom. He kissed my temple.

"Don't worry about it. That man is talking nothing but nonsense. Mother will make sure that he learns his place."

My tired eyes fluttered as I leant against his neck.

* * *

When I first began to recover my senses I kept calm to realise that I wasn't in my bed, nor in the car, or in an alleyway bleeding to death. I was laid on a futon; a strange experience after owning a western bed for my whole life, but it was certainly better than the floor of an alleyway. I could feel the soft weight of a thin blanket draped over my torso and tucked beneath my arms. It seemed that my sense of touch along most of my body was dulled by what I could feel were bandages taped to several patches of skin. The scent of medicinal salves and such herbs emitted from my body and the blankets in hefty wafts, numbing my sinuses.

I was fully awake a few moments later, able to coherently analyse my surroundings, think back to how I could have possible gotten into such a situation, and why it felt like I'd been the victim of a hole puncher; but all this time, I couldn't feel a single limb in my body. Not even my eyes would obey me when I ordered them to open. I wasn't used to having my orders refused, especially by my own body, so I only tried harder to receive a response from my dormant muscles, despite the blatant signals that I was receiving, telling me that my body was not yet ready to begin moving after such a long and well desired rest. Uchihas have always been stubborn to the very end. After a lot of tight clenching, muscle tensing and steel willpower I just about managed to open my eyes, making it look like a graceful start to my wakening even though there was so much effort put into the small action.

I almost thought I was still dreaming when the first thing I saw was a wide, toothsome, almost inhumane grin before me, occupying probably two thirds of the face that it belonged to. For as long as I can remember, there has never been a time when I woke up as thoroughly confused as I did at this point. This was complete stranger looming over me that I had no recollection of meeting, yet my instincts had no reaction to his presence at all. I wasn't suspicious, cautious, or even remotely afraid of him. I was just curious as to why he felt the need to rape my personal space so vigorously.

"Oh good, you're awake. I was worried that I'd be stuck being your personal nurse after a while. I really didn't like the idea of changing your diapers."

He laughed and sat back on the floor with his legs tucked beneath him, evacuating my breathing space. Placed on a small tray next to him were a collection of small bottles which contained what I could only guess from the smell was natural remedies and herbs, familiar looks and smells as the ones now covering my body. I wanted to be grateful that I was receiving help in the first place, but all I could think of was 'who do I have to rob to get some damn, good old fashioned drugs?' I can understand the art of making your own medicine, but the effort is pointless when I smell like an incense candle and feel in just as much pain as I would without the pretty flowers rubbed into my gaping wounds.

Picking a small bottle from the bunch he unscrewed the top and peeled back the blanket covering me until it was tucked over my hip. I would have screamed and pushed him away for revealing the indecency of my naked chest, but the aches and remaining inability to feel my arms put a dampen on any embarrassment that I wished to conceal with violent rage. I just lay back with heated cheeks as he rubbed a few moist leaves into a bruise beneath my sternum.

"Aren't you going to ask where you are?"

He enquired, moving his hand in a firm circular motion, pressing on the bruise unnecessarily. Ignoring the dull pain I looked around that the room I was in. From what I could see of the walls beneath the pinned up old posters and collectables, they were painted a garish orange, with the paint peeling in periodic patterns. There were dirty clothes and several tattered pairs of trainers littering the chipped wooden floor. Other than the futon there was only one piece of furniture; a scuffed old desk that was blanketed by nothing but empty ramen cups a several bottles that at one point should have contained high sugar beverages. The room looked very much like an objectified visual representation of him, with his dirty, tussled blond hair, crumpled and greasy work shirt that was splattered with a few bloodstains, and hands calloused from manual labour that were still persistently massaging my skin. Biting my tongue so to stop myself from shouting at him to leave me alone I answered stiffly.

"I'm guessing that I'm in your bedroom."

My voice was hoarse and stiff, sounding as though dust had already begun to coat my vocal chords from lack of use. The man smiled.

"Yeah, that's right. I kind of got the idea from you that it wouldn't be the best move to take you to a hospital so I just dragged you back here."

I remembered more than enough of how I met him to reaccount my first impression of him, which was now pushed out of my conscience to be reconsidered now that I realised that he wasn't completely brain dead.

"Thank you."

I bit out against the ache of my chest and allowed myself to relax a bit. It surprised me that I wasn't completely on edge, like usual, even when I was in my own home. So I guessed that my instincts trusted this man, and I trusted my instincts more than anything or anyone. They had yet to lead me astray. Well, it was either that option, or I subconsciously realised that there was no way a man as pathetic as him could be anywhere close to a threat to me, even while I was immobile. Though that may have been an unreasonable conjecture to make when my profession was to be alert and suspicious at ever single moment of existence.

Retracting his hand, my new acquaintance wiped the remaining herbs on the thighs of his jeans.

"I think that an introduction is in order. I am Uzumaki Naruto, and I already know your name, Uchiha Sasuke."

He didn't bother to reach his hand out to me for an introductory handshake. He could probably tell that I couldn't move a thing. I said previously that my instincts trusted him, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't be sceptical of him. Besides, I found his casual approach to addressing me irritating. I never liked being referred to by my first name by anyone other than my brother. Not even my father truly had that privilege. I tilted my head back with eyes set for interrogating.

"How do you know my name?"

"I checked your I.D at the restaurant , remember?"

With a nod I accepted that as my answer. Not leaving a moment to waste with pointless relaxation I began to ask the stranger how serious my injuries were, if he had actually inspected them.

"Uzumaki-san, I wou-"

"Just call me Naruto."

He interrupted, riling my temper a little bit more.

"Pardon?"

I asked, with forged politeness, actually wanting to scold him for being so disrespectful like I would usually do. Being completely vulnerable in this place I found this to be not the best time to teach him proper etiquette. With an oblivious laugh he laid his hand on my bandaged forearm.

"I think that it's okay to be on first name basis after all that we went through together, huh Sasuke?"

"Not really. I find it ru-"

"Yeah, yeah I get it. So why were those guys chasing you yesterday? Are you a criminal or something?"

Great. When I have a pounding headache, I'm sent a chattering numskull to be my bedside nurse. Gritting my teeth I looked to the ceiling in hopes to rid myself of the image of his face that I wanted to smash in with my elbow.

"No, I'm not a crook. But I'm also not at liberty to tell you the reason behind yesterday's events. All I can do is request that you erase it from your memory completely, or at least keep it to yourself."

"What? There's no way I could do that. It was far too fun to just forget."

With creased brows, wide eyes and a gaping mouth I turned my head to look at his idiotic smirk.

"Fun? Are you out of your mind?"

I choked out. I suppose he would think of the event as being fun when he wasn't the one that had several holes drilled through his body. If I drank something it would probably just end up leaking out of me like it would do a colander. He didn't answer me. Just laughed at my expression and turned back to the small tray of medicinal equipment, among which was a bottle of water which I only now spotted. Seeing me eyeing it he lifted it and popped the cap on the top. I expected him to just give it to me to allow me to drink. But the hospitable stranger took it upon himself to feed me. I would've spat it back out of him if I hadn't needed the hydration.

He tucked a thick hand under my limp neck and lifted my head forward just that little bit. I was too numb to resist any of it and just stabbed him with a fiery glare at every opportunity when he wasn't looking. He tipped the head of the bottle into my mouth, only allowing a teasingly small amount of water to pass my lips. All the while he mocked me in my weakness, saying 'drink it slowly' and 'good boy' like he was feeding a dam dog that was too stupid to understand how to consume liquids. I let it slip for the time being, but vowed that when my strength and movement returns, I would remember to serve him some painful revenge with my fists to his genitalia.

Pulling away with the bottle he moved back to give me room to cough after some of the water had travelled in the wrong direction down my throat. The clenching of my muscles brought pain all across my chest, but that pain is what woke me up to my full awareness. The feeling started to come back into my hands, blood flowing through the veins in sharp prickles that travelled down my fingers as I flexed them experimentally.

"So if you're not a criminal are you like a secret agent or something?"

I ignored him, concentrating on raising my weak arm to wipe my mouth of any water or saliva that had missed its target.

"Oh, I know! You're a Yakuza member aren't you?"

"You think I'm one of those Yakuza scum? I'm insulted!"

It was a reflexive answer that I partially regret. Not enough to apologise for my outburst, but enough to feel that little bit guilty when I saw him jump back at my tone of voice. I just hate being associated with Yakuza. Those scum sicken me, and yet the tabloids place our prideful family name under that title because they have no idea what good we do for them. Yakuza scum...how dare this stranger insult me so.

With wide eyes he pulled forward again when he realised that I wouldn't act violently or anything like that.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

He raised his hands in some kind of regretful gesture, thinking that I wouldn't notice the hint of sarcasm that laced his apology. With a cold sigh I adjusted my head on the flat pillow that was laid beneath me and felt the need to justify my outburst. With a calm disposition I allowed my creased features to relax and explained.

"I'm not doing anything illegal. I just-"

"So, this is the maggot that's stupid enough to deny help when he's got more holes in him than a cheese grater."

Obviously the people in this home weren't ones to follow the rules of social decency, continuously interrupting me.

"Obaa-chan, go easy on him. He still isn't lookin' too good."

Another blond person stood at the doorway of the room I was kept. She had her pale arms crossed over her heaving bosom and a sharp sneer pointed towards myself, looking helpless tucked up on the old futon. Her thin green coat swayed in the wind that she created as she stormed over beside me. She crouched down to examine me, coming equally as close as 'whats-his-face' had been when I had woken up. She was enough for me to smell the sharp scent of Sake on her breath, and see the creases around her lips from age.

"I doubt he would be. He's been as good as dead."

She mumbled to the blond man beside her, and leant back to sit on the floor next to him at my bedside. There, she just continued to observe me as I gave a blank stare to the both of them.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

I enquired, attempting to pull myself to sitting. But the furthest I could get was to lean back on my elbows, and even that small movement physically drained me. My arms were shaking under the weight of my lifted torso, my elbows digging through the futon to feel the solid base of the wooden floor beneath it.

"A good twenty two hours."

My features tensed in shock. That would certainly have explained my inability to move when I had woken up. And suddenly, I found the means to move again, and quickly. My time here had been wasted and Itachi would either be deathly worried about me, or just plain dead. Ignoring any unbalance in my movements I fully sat up.

"Th-Thank you for your hospitality but I really need to leave."

A hand pressed to my chest in attempts to push me back on the futon.

"Oh no, you don't! You heard what Obaa-chan said. You were practically dead! It's bad enough that you aren't in a hospital. You can't get out of bed."

"Well, nothing can stop me from trying."

That determination was short lived. A cork, wedge heel smacked me across the face while I was least expecting it. At least the woman had the kindness not to hit me in the chest where most of my injuries were homed.

"Lie down shit head before I kill what's left of you!"

She kicked twice as hard as any of Orochimaru's goons could even dream of. That small entertaining notion was more than enough to block out the pain of my severely bruised cheek and the taste of blood lingering in my mouth. I was choking on my caught breath and quiet chuckles while the large, foreign hands were touching my face an examining the new injury. The buxom sadist stood up and patted the shoulder of the man kneeling next to me.

"Naruto. If he so much as sits up, you give him a good smack. Got it?"

I felt his thick breath wash over my face as he gave a heavy sigh and looked up at the woman.

"Man, you scare me sometimes, crazy old hag."

"Damn right I'm crazy. And I'm supposed to scare you, so shut up and grow a pair."

With that she stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. The blond man didn't even flinch at the sudden loud noise, probably more than used to such attitude from her; not that I knew enough about the two of them to make such a judgement. Finally ceasing his awful attempts at first aid, he looked at me with a light, humorous gaze as I began to lean back up onto my elbows.

"Tsunade has a weird way of showin' that she cares."

He laughed, and was kind enough to help me to sit up instead of kick me back down like that woman had done. There was no headrest to lean against when a sat up, so I slumped forward onto my knees a little, feeling my shoulders drooping forward under the strain of keeping my head lifted.

"We were up all night trying to patch you up. You were torn up worse than a scratching post."

I gave a subtle nod in way of thanks, understanding that it must have been troublesome for them to nurse me back from death though they didn't even know me. Silence passed as he looked over the new bruise on my face. Although painful, it wasn't necessary to have it treated. It was meagre in comparison to the bruises on the rest of my body and would surely be at the very end of my list of worries in the future.

After the spur of fussing over me had died down, my acquaintance settled into a less formal position of sitting, unfurling his legs and leaning to the side on one of his hands. He had fetched a pile of pillows from another room in the apartment to pile behind me and help keep me upright. They were stiff, overstuffed, cheap bags of feathers that I was not used to since my high style of living. But who was I to complain when they were probably the only things this poor man could afford. Yes; even I can show sympathy to the lower class.

"So, what exactly happened out there?"

I was handed the glass of water that I was now capable of consuming for myself, despite the pains that lingered every time I raised the vessel to my lips. I breathed a sigh against the cool glass, knowing that this man was not one to abandon his intrigue in the matter so easily.

"I can't-"

"Save your breathe, Naruto. He's under oath."

Interrupted again by the woman who had returned. And I mentally cheered in celebration to see the small bottle of prescription pain killers clutched between her manicured fingers. The small, amber tinted container looked like a haven to my pained eyes. I showed no change to my blank expression as I watched her approach. Her knowledge of my pledge of silence raised the guards that I had let slip for a short while, and her hard stare told me that that was not the extent of her knowledge about me.

She emptied two of the capsules into her hand and then offered them to me, not a moments break of eye contact as I accepted them. Even as I washed them down with the water I still held to her creased eyes over the glass. Then when they settled down my throat she opened her clown red lips to speak once more.

"He's a Ninja."

The cool, feminine voice had me gritting my teeth. Those who knew the true name of my occupation were rare, distinctly separated as being allies, or enemies. And since I ruled out that she would be an ally I was left with only one choice. I felt so helpless; weak and vulnerable to any plans she had for me. My brows dug into the gap between my eyes, uninterrupted by the warbling gold bird that vied for an explanation.

"Say what? Ninja? As in 'silent soldiers of the night' kind of Ninja? In Tokyo? Didn't they only exist in the Edo era? How come this hasn't been in the news? Then why do you have a gun? Don't you use death stars and stuff like that?"

His verbal musings went unheeded. I set the glass beside me on the floor so to free my hands should I need to use self defence any time soon. Still staring into my face her lips twitched with a hidden laugh before she continued.

"Uchiha Sasuke. The youngest prodigal son of Uchiha Fugaku. Second in command of the Uchiha clan."

"Who are you?"

I growled and supported my hand against the futon, ready to spring at her. But she leaned back in amusement and rolled up her right sleeve so to reveal her forearm. There, against her pale skin, was a simple black symbol. A permanent mark of a clan member. Had it been a traditional marking then it would have been burned or carved into her skin, but with the invention of tattoo needles such self mutilation was unnecessary when ink could be used to mark the skin instead of a scar. I too had a similar marking upon my body, placed upon me during a ceremony when I had been old enough to reply with a 'yes' when read the terms of my initiation into my family clan.

Her mark stood to be a swirled leaf. A symbol that I recognised but couldn't quite remember where it to belonged to until she revealed it to me.

"I am Tsunade, formerly the proud leader of the Konoha clan."

She lowered her sleeve with a prideful smirk and patted her arm where the tattoo resided. She pointed a finger towards me, close enough to my face that I felt the strain in my eyes as the crossed to look at it.

"We had all assumed that the Uchihas wouldn't last once they split off from Konoha. But it seems that we were sorely mistaken."

I'd heard my father mention the name Konoha quite a few times during the earliest part of my childhood. From what I could remember the ancestors of our two clans had formed an alliance, which was called off by my father only a few years before his death. My father's unknown reasons to disestablish the partnering of our clans only put my on further edge in concerns to this stranger. For all I knew Konoha should have been my enemy.

"Relax. Despite the separation of our clans I still believe there to be a close relationship between us. I am trustworthy."

She slyly remarked and held her hand out in offer for me to shake it and accept peace. I was not one to be easily coerced into trust.

"Attempting to convince me to trust you has only severed to make me more suspicious."

She laughed and took back her hand.

"Well, I helped you didn't I? You're still alive; you've got all your limbs, all your weapons and even all of your little trinkets. That means something doesn't it?"

She pointed to a pile of items in the corner of the room, which Uzumaki-san proceeded to fetch for her at her beck. I caught his limp as he stumbled over to them. I'd forgotten that he had been injured during our escape. I didn't feel guilty, knowing that as long as he could still walk he must not have been wounded badly enough to be concerned about him. He placed my belongings beside my futon, similar to how a priest would lay an offering to the Gods. I looked to see all of my belongings along with the filthy jacket that I had stolen. I rummaged through the lot for one item in particular. There it was, slipped into my shoe after it must have fallen from my pocket. The small wooden box. I snatched it quickly and held it to my chest, once again regaining that sense of purpose that didn't make me feel so useless as I was. So long as this object was in my possession I still had a mission to fulfil.

My gun and kunai lay among the folds of my clothes as well. My bullet pouch had even been refilled. Although I was still untrustworthy of this woman, I grew less cautious to feel the weapon in my hand.

"Thank you for your hospitality."

I mumbled while examining my shirt to see the extent of damage. The silk was torn in several places, lined with blood and moist dirt. I would have to buy a new one. I heard a feminine laugh outside of my train of thought.

"Hold up! You two are having a conversation without me and now I'm really confused!"

The whining of the male next to her strayed my attention back to him. His blond hair was even messier now that he'd pulled at it in his confusion of the conversation he hadn't been a part of. Brushing off her dress with a mocking laugh Tsunade closed the cap on the pills and stood up.

"Sasuke, would you mind telling Naruto the rest of the story. I've got to dash off again."

"Actually, I'm not comfortable with-"

"Great. Stay in bed. I'll be back in a few hours."

She took the damn pills with her when she left the room. Two would only numb me so much and they weren't taking effect fast enough. I swore to myself that as soon as I escaped the shit shack of an apartment the first thing I'd do is rob a pharmacy.

I flinched when I noticed the bright blue eyes staring longingly at me. I shakily turned my head to him, feeling my frown twitch dangerously on my lips. His cheeks were puffed, as though all the annoying questions he was about to ask were overflowing into his mouth. And sure enough, as soon as that gob opened they all came spewing out.

"-do you use kunais and shuriken and stuff? How come you have a gun? That's not very Ninja-like. And the thugs after you had guns as well. Were they Ninja too? I thought Ninjas were supposed to wear those black pyjamas, not suits. Were you trained at an old fashion dojo too? Were there Ninja monks-"

"I'm not at liberty to answer any of your questions."

I growled, rubbing at a particularly sore bruise on my thigh thigh that I didn't remember receiving.

"Huh? Why not?"

"Tsunade's clan has been disbanded, meaning that her oath has been made redundant, but I am still active and am sworn to secrecy."

He huffed and slammed his hand on the futon, unintentionally jostling my wounded body. I listened carefully to hear a door close in another room of the apartment. From the sound I deducted that the door was heavy with a lock; most likely the front door. My estimate was confirmed when I heard the clack of cork heels patter down metal stairs of the apartment complex. Tsunade had left, which meant that it was time to make my move while it was only the buffoon that was left to guard me.

I pulled the blankets and slowly worked my legs back to life, feeling the sting in my feet as my circulation regulated. I tucked the Sharingan into my jacket pocket before I put it on. I would just have to bear travelling without a shirt for a while until I could buy a new one. All this while, Uzumaki-san was still talking. He just wouldn't shut up.

"-and that's just not fair. I mean, you can't just tempt someone with that kind of information and then take it away. I already know the basics of all this Ninja crap. So, surely it wouldn't hurt to-"

He finally noticed me pulling my suit trousers on over my bandaged thighs and knees, fretting every time I bent my legs and agitated a wound. I'd never been injured so seriously before, so I wasn't used to this kind of pain. I was skilled enough that I never received any more than scrapes and a few sprains in battle. This whole situation was a huge strain to my pride and I wanted to escape while the hospitality that was shown to me only reminded me of my failure in battle that caused such injuries.

"What are you doing?"

He spoke while I pulled my legs beneath me so to have a better chance of standing on my weak legs.

"I am leaving. Do you have a phone?"

"Get back in bed, Sasuke. I don't want to have to hit you."

It seemed he would not give up without a fight. The look on his face told me so. Arched brows, lips tightly shut and his hands that were poised to grab me once I stood. I would have restrained him or locked him in a cupboard had I been at good strength. But, being practically an invalid, I used the lazy escape route.

"Shit."

He whispered as I held my loaded gun to his forehead, digging into his skin when he refused to move back from it. As I threat I took off the safety and cocked it, being thoroughly entertained by the different expressions he made.

"May I use your phone, please."

He nodded dumbly and scrambled like a panicked insect for a phone that was buried beneath all of the rubbish on his desk. After he shakily handed it to me he sat back down beside me; quite a strange thing to do considering I just held a gun to his head.

I didn't trust this woman, Tsunade. Whether this was her home or not I was suspicious that her phones may be tapped. Either intentionally by her or without her knowing. Either way, if I were to be careless about using the phone then I would put myself and my brother in serious danger.

The phone was wireless, which complicated the matter of examining it. But it didn't matter all that much. The dial tone was clear and without any static or change in volume, a sign that a third party was not currently listening in. But that still left the possibility of the phone having recording equipment installed into it. So, I began to unscrew both the speaker and the microphone, all the while keeping an eye on Uzumaki-san who sat there watching me.

"What are you doing now?"

"I'm checking for bugs."

I'd answered automatically when asked the question, and regretted it a moment later when he took my response as a sign of me wanting to engage him in conversation.

"Of course. Stealthy ninjas like you spare trust for no one. They fight alone with only their weapons as their deadly companions. And when-"

"Stop spouting nonsense, please."

I bit out and reassembled the device once satisfied with my inspection. Just in case I missed anything I would make sure to keep the conversation as vague as possible. No locations or names would be revealed. All I needed to know was whether Itachi was safe. My brother may be abnormally skilled, but he is still human, and a chest injury as serious as his was it not something to overlook to easily.

Intent on preparing to leave after my phone call I took my first attempt to stand, which was soon to be a failure. They way I had bent my leg to plant my foot on the floor stretched the gaping bullet wound in my hip, agitating the menial wire stitches that had been used to hold it closed. I cursed and lunged forward back onto my knees, putting pressure on the wound so to numb the pain.

"See why ya' should of stayed in bed? You're gonna rip the stitches!"

I sighed in relief when the pain ebbed back into a dull ache and then tried to stand once again, using much more caution to my movements and taking my time to brace my weight on my legs. I closed my eyes so to stop the room from spinning and retain my balance. From lying down for so long it felt like I was much higher from the ground than I actually was, my legs feeling long and unsteady stilts that just about managed to balance the weight of my torso.

Uzumaki-san sat with his legs unfurled in anticipation to catch me if I were to fall. He obviously had little knowledge of my endurance.

"Would you mind going into the other room, please? This call is private."

He choked on his own saliva, making a squeal of disbelief at my request.

"Are you kidding? I'm your hostage, you can't take your eyes off me. I could easily escape and call the police."

I laughed and caressed the barrel of my gun. I thought I'd never get to practice the Uchiha's signature threatening eyes. I could easily play a smile across my lips while my dark eyes would speak of a dark evil that I promised them.

"If you do then I'll just have to hunt you down. And when I do I will make sure to inflict much more pain than any bullet could. Besides, you won't get too far with that shoddy leg. I could easily catch up to you."

The threat worked its magic. He looked to my eyes, to my gun, to the door, and then back to my eyes. Then he finally wobbled onto his feet and headed out the door, calling over his shoulder.

"Fine, I'm goin'. Prissy bastard. No matter how scary you think you are you will never match up to Obaa-chan."

My smile died on my lips once he closed the door behind him. Instantly I dialled the memorised phone number and prayed that I would receive an answer. Kisame's deep, powdery voice settled my nerves.

"Yes."

He answered simply. With a sigh I replied

"It's me."

He knew who it was from my voice.

"I am glad to hear that you're alright."

"I feel the same about you. How is he?"

"He is alive."

He replied after a pause, which told me that my brother wasn't in top condition, but at least he wasn't dead. Kisame continued before I could respond.

"Where are you?"

"Safe"

"Mmm, very well."

My response told him that it may not be safe to talk, and he understood what I meant. Now it came to the difficult matter; making my plans and informing Kisame without actually revealing any names or locations. A difficult task when we were most likely on opposite sides of town, with no house to return to or meeting place. There was a very small chance that we would be reunited without being put in danger. Any safe house that we had devised in Tokyo had been most probably been infiltrated by Orochimaru at this point. We had very few trustworthy allies. Most people were eager to hand us over to the government for the reward, or kill us themselves in hopes to gain a reputation. So, from what plan I could devise, our only option was to work our way out of Tokyo, to some place where we were lesser known. Only one place came to mind.

"In three weeks, you will find me with my uncle."

"I don't think that is wise decision, sir. If your brother were conscious he would strongly oppose to you being there, I am sure of it."

"Speak now if you have a better suggestion. If not then we shall follow through with my plan."

Silence followed. I huffed with satisfaction, knowing that my decision had been right.

"I thought so."

I muttered. I gathered my shoes from the floor and began slowly approaching the door to leave while continuing to speak.

"You won't be able to reach me until then and I will only contact you in an emergency, so if you have anything else to say then say it now."

There came a moment of silence on the other end of the phone before a melancholy laugh rose from the speaker.

"Sir was sick with worry when he was awake. You best be safe for his sake."

I tried my best not to smile at the mentioning of my overly protective sibling.

"I will see you in three weeks."

"Until then."

I hung up the phone, feeling anxious and regretful. Although I knew I had taken the only option, I still wondered if it was too late to call back and change our meeting arrangements. My Uncle, Uchiha Madara, was my mother's brother. An unearthly being that I could recall from my earliest memories to be...uncomely, to say the least. He would frighten any child in his presence, myself included when my father would bring me to his home to see him at every chance that I had when I wasn't at school. I could never recall what it was like in his home. My memory was patchy concerning him. But at this point in time, I could think him no further than being the only option of sanctity where my brother and I could be reunited.

"So, visiting your uncle then?"

I came face to face with Uzumaki-san before I had even reached for the handle of the door. I sneered at him when I handed him back to phone.

"You certainly have a keen sense of hearing."

I muttered. His smile told me that his took no notice of the spite or suspicion in my voice.

"Yep. I'm like a fox that way."

I nodded and pushed past him, buttoning up the oversized jacket to cover up what I could of my chest. He trailed behind me to the front door, impressively keeping up with my speed despite his limp.

"You know, Tsunade's going to be back in a little while and she won't let you go until you're rested for at least a few weeks."

"Then I best leave as soon as I can then."

"I'll make her chase after you if you do!"

Even with his leg all bandaged up he still managed to get in front of me to block my path to the door. With a growl I pushed past him, only to have him grab my arm and pull me back.

"You shouldn't even be standing up let alone running around town and dodging bullets again. You'll die before you even get to the bottom of the stairs."

He held such determination in his voice. It was refreshing to see someone so noble in the kind of modern society that we lived in. From the feeling of his fingers digging into my arm I could tell that I would not easily be able to throw off his grip. So I just waited with a smouldering glare to his bright blue eyes for him to let go. But he didn't. With a sigh he motioned back to his room with the futon.

"Don't go out there like that. Let me at least get you some clothes. You look like a dirty male prostitute in that jacket."

I didn't struggle when he pulled me back to his room. I even took the lead at some point and leant against the desk while he rummaged through the wardrobe. From what little I could see of his style of clothes I could tell that I would most likely be pinned with a bright commercial t-shirt and some baggy teenage jeans. People would think that I was having some kind of mid life crisis if they saw me dressed like that.

The actual result wasn't actually too bad. He must have taken what little he knew of my personality into account when he chose suitable clothes for me. A pair of dark straight leg jeans and a plain blue button down shirt was handed to me, and I quickly set about changing, ignoring the glances he gave to my body as I removed the filthy jacket.

"You know, if you had some kind of body guard with you then I wouldn't be so worried about you being out there."

If I wasn't halfway through I buttoning up my shirt I would have grabbed my gun on the desk and forced him to shut up. He sighed in a sarcastic way and crossed his arms.

"If only you could find someone strong to protect you. It would be good if they had a little bit of medical training too, to help maintain your wounds."

It obviously frustrated him when I ignored the hints that he gave me, because when I turned my back to him he actually circled the room so to get back into my line of view.

"And, it might help if they were blond and handsome as well. On a long journey it's always nice to have something pretty to look at to entertain-"

"You can stop talking now. I get what you are hinting at and the answer is a definite no."

I spoke calmly with an assertiveness in my voice; the same kind of voice that a mother would use on a learning toddler. I grabbed my gun and tucked it into the jeans. The pockets were tight enough to make sure that the precious box I carried wouldn't fall out of them no matter how reckless I was, but other than the pockets every other aspect of the item of clothing was one size too big. Uzumaki-san came up beside me and dramatically spread his arms in a theatrical gesture to ask 'why'.

"I would be an awesome companion to have! You have to let me come with you! I kick ass, I can get you healthy again and I don't even need any luggage. Just the shirt on my back and my fists...and the pants on my legs...and a few clean pairs of underwear...also some money would be smart to bring along...and my car, which means that I'll also have to take my car keys-"

When he caught me ignoring him and moving to leave he sprung to the door and held his hands on opposite sides of the doorway and affectively acted as a barrier between me and my escape. I didn't have time for this, that woman could be returning any minute and I was stuck scolding a stranger. With a growl I took out my gun once more and aimed it for those baby blue eyes. He didn't move instantly, and I found myself grinding my teeth in frustration.

"Move aside."

"Why can't I come with you?"

"Move aside"

His eyes hardened and I saw his hands clench on the door frame.

"Shoot me if you want. I'm not movin' out of the way."

Neither of us made a move for a moment. He was stubbornly holding his ground, thinking I was bluffing, while I was debating whether I would seem ungrateful to my saviour if I were to shoot him in the face.

"Think about it Sasuke. It'll be smart to take me along. If you run into those guys again that hip wound especially is gonna slow you down tenfold, and it's not like you could drive in your condition either. I can drive you there and fend off those ass faces."

"I'm insulted that you think of me defenceless enough to desire protection from someone like you."

"Then don't think of it that way. I'm like the Robin to your Batman. Batman is still awesome and kicks serious ass, but sometimes he needs Robin to hand him his weapon when he drops it."

I clicked my tongue at his immature comparison of our situation. But, as much as I loathed to my very core to admit it, he held a very solid case. I'm not deluded enough to overlook my limits, and escaping to the other side of Japan as a wounded man with probably thousands of people wanting my blood is something that perhaps not even I would be able to do. At least, I wouldn't be able to do it alone.

"You'll take me part way."

I hesitantly withdrew my gun, still feeling that lingering urge to at least pistol whip that smug face of his.

"I won't hesitate to kill you if I get sick of your company."

He laughed and waved his hand in dismissal of my threat. He looked to excited to be willingly putting his life in danger to help a stranger.

"Yeah, of course. I'll make sure not to bother you or anything."

I put my gun back into the waist of the jeans I wore and stepped back to allow him access to his room.

"I'm leaving this very second, so you best get yourself ready."

"Yeah, of course, I've just got to write a note to Obaa-chan in case she thinks we got abducted or something."

He pranced over the filthy piles of clothes on the floor to gather his things while I waited by the front door. He emerged moments later with two rucksacks. I warned him that he would only need necessities, and if we needed anything else then I could just buy it on the way. But my advice fell on deaf ears as he fished through one of the rucksacks for his car keys.

He pinned the poorly scribbled note to the inside of the front door before we headed down the stairs. I already knew that I would very swiftly tire of this man, but it relaxed me to know that I could shoot him without feeling too guilty. I had warned him after all, and it might even be necessary to kill him at the end of the journey so that he doesn't leak any information to anyone.

"So, where am I gonna be driving to?"

"Osaka."

"Osaka?"

He squeaked and paused mid step on the way to his car. I swiftly spun around so to communicate with body language that 'if he had any complaints then he could just tell them to the priest at his funeral'. I saw his Adam's apple bob on his thick, veined neck and he swiftly shut his mouth, his teeth audibly clacking together.

"Uh...right. Osaka it is, then."

He stuttered and overtook me to unlock the vehicle. Just as he was about to open the passenger side door for me, like some kind of chivalrous gentlemen would do for a lady, I punched at his shoulder, signalling him to get out my way. With the look of a pouting child he rubbed at his bruised shoulder and circled the car to get in the drivers seat.

The automobile was a shoddy piece of work. The leather seats were torn with deep grooves from oversized or boisterous passengers.

"How about some music?"

He laughed and turned the radio on to some cheesy J-rock while he started up the car. I turned it off seconds later and rested my head against the cool of the window.

* * *

Whew, a short and kind of pointless character, but you know. Setting the story is kind of important, and there is importance in this scene. The little flashbacks throughout will all make sense further on in the fic, don't worry if you'r confused.

A rare occurrance has happened with this fic. I actually have planned out what's going to happen instead of winging it like I usually do, but i might do an alternate ending thing because i can't make up my mind on what's going to happen. But I think it will be good.

There's going to be about fifteen long chapters in total and, i'm sorry to say, it's going to be more about drama, action and developing romance than steamy sex scenes. But there will be a few, don't worry ;) I've gotten over my shyness now.

So, I hope you stick with this fic until it gets to the drama and don't judge it too quickly from these chapters.

Reviews are verrry much appreciated

Bed_Of_Nails_And_Sandpaper

xx


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